Shatter Me
by Epicminion
Summary: Maka thought she had no need to worry about being chosen for the Hunger Games. Her name was in the reaping the least amount of times possible for someone her age, and her father was a victor. It should have been impossible. But it wasn't. When she is chosen as the female tribute for District Eleven she is thrust into the Games. The masquerade has begun. For resbang 2014
1. Shatter Me

_Hello everyone! Welcome to my Resbang! It is a hunger games au so be prepared, it does get violent! I hope you like it! A great big thank you to my betas Ash-is-boss, Rebornfromash, Khalessimaka and Hersheybar42! Also Thanks to my lovely artists Kittykatz009 and likasashes! I will put the links to their art and cosplay on my profile, ok? check them out! Also, there is eventual Soma! _

_Full Summary: Maka Albarn thought she had no need to worry about being chosen for the Hunger Games. Her name was in the reaping the least amount of times possible for someone her age, and her father was a victor. It should have been impossible._

_But it wasn't. When she is chosen as the female tribute for District Eleven she is thrust into the Capitol and the Hunger Games, where appearances and surviving go hand in hand, and it's nearly impossible to tell an enemy from a friend._

_The masquerade had begun. _

_Warnings:_

_Violence, gore, Minor character death (20+ deaths), Madness, blood, language, Giriko. Hunger Games AU. _

_I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think! :) Have a great day!_

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><p>The spring breeze carried a chill that swept through the orchard and around the flowers planted by the base of the creaking gates leading to town.<p>

Maka sat at the bottom of one of the tall apple trees, absent-mindedly flipping the pages of a scrap book resting on her torn stockings.

The book cracked in her hands as she opened it, and the pages within were yellowed and frail, the words scrolling across them slanted and dark in comparison. She smiled as her index finger traced each picture. She frowned as she recalled each moment as if it were yesterday.

Her father being reaped.

Her father in the games.

Her father winning.

Her mother and father getting married.

Her being born.

Baby Maka and her family, smiles on all their faces.

Her first birthday.

Her second, her third, her eighth.

A picture of her and her father, mama nowhere in sight.

Her friends.

Her papa in the capital for those horrid games.

Her friends.

She knew every picture and caption by heart. Now, at the age of sixteen, they were how she remembered her mother.

Kami Albarn had married Spirit Albarn two years after he won the games when she found out she was pregnant with the red haired man's child. Their marriage had been a happy one, both devoted to Maka and her growth in a happy, healthy home. However, Maka began to grow and grow, and Spirit started seeing her in the eyes of all the tributes he helped kill off during the Games.

After he saw his own daughter as a possible tribute, their marriage became fragile. As Spirit turned to alcohol as an escape from the horror of sending children to their deaths he became more withdrawn.

He drank more, and with that he changed. He still loved his family, he always did, but now he needed a distraction, something to keep him from remembering the kids he had led to death, the pain he had helped cause families.

That had been when the affairs started. When her mama had found out the first time, she cried and had thrown things at him; hitting him with rolled socks and the soft, green pillows from the couch. Maka was four.

The second time there was screaming as well as crying. Her mama had thrown Maka's toy blocks at him when she thought Maka was in bed, catching him on the nose and making it bleed. Maka had been five.

The third time was a week after. The fourth soon after that. There were so many affairs that Maka had lost count. Maka started to notice the signs. Whenever her mama ordered her to go to her room, voice soft but also hard at the same time, she knew her papa had another affair. Maka would run off in fear from the tone in her mama's voice. It was scarier than the time Maka had been yelled at for getting into a scuffle with Blackstar by the pond. She had run off to her room and locked the door.

That was when the screaming had started. She could hear it; her mother's anger, her father's shame and apologies. She could hear the sounds of things breaking: plates, cups, other precious items.

She curled up in her room, the dresser pushed in front of her door and her blankets draped over her head, creating a cocoon where she shook and cried until her mama knocked on her door. Maka did not make a sound as her mama said she was sorry that Maka had to hear the fight, that she still loved Maka, but she would be going away for a little while. Maka didn't say a thing, nor did she move the blockage from the door. Her mama sighed and left. She was eight at the time.

Her mother had been gone when she got up the next morning, though, her father had been there. He was on his hands and knees, picking up the broken pieces of the vase that her parents had gotten as a wedding present. The shards were cutting his fingers, blood trickling from the slices all along his hands but he greeted her with a smile, like any other day, asking how her sleep was.

As if she got any.

Her mother never came back. Maka received letters every now and again from district three (where her mother now lived after the very long transfer process and an even longer trip by foot. It hurt her that her mama would try so hard to get away from her), but she never saw her, never heard her voice. No, the scrapbook was all the knowledge Maka had left of her mother, except for the memories.

She sighed, standing up and closing the book. The early morning sun was streaming between the leaves of the tree. She should probably head back to her home to get ready, now. It was the day of the reaping after all.

Her dress was plain and green. Her father had offered to buy her a new one this year, but she was still in perfect shape from last year's ceremony that she didn't need another one. As she slipped it on, she worried about who would be chosen to fight in the games this year, her mind drifted to Tsubaki and Blackstar in alarm.

She never liked watching the people get chosen and carted off to the capital to be paraded around like hated it. It made her sick to the stomach watching her classmates and younger children get dragged away as their family members screamed and cried. Her mind drifted to the screams she heard from her mother the night she left.

She tried to convince herself she had no fear of being reaped. She was the daughter of a victor. They lived in comfort because of her father's reward for winning while others starved. She did not have to enter her name more than necessary to get tesserae, a year's worth of grain and oil. Her and her father had plenty of food for themselves, but not enough for to many others .

No, Maka Albarn's name was only in the reaping draw four times while others had their names in twice as much as hers. She had no reason to fear, yet she always did.

As she walked towards the middle of the drab, gray city centre where the capitol building stood tall and clean, she met up with two of her friends, Blackstar (as he insisted on being called, he was actually named Blake) and Tsubaki.

Tsubaki gestured for Maka to join her as soon as she saw the blonde girl step onto the street leading to the square. When Maka joined the duo, Blackstar was talking animatedly about how if he was reaped he would beat down all the other tributes to win, because he was a great warrior. Tsubaki was smiling and nodding at all the appropriate times, while discreetly watching Maka sneak up behind the boy.

When Maka was right behind him her hands shot out and she poked him hard right above his hips, making him jump.

He screeched.

Maka laughed incredibly hard at the very warrior like screech he made.

"God dammit Maka, don't do that," the blue haired boy demanded (Maka didn't know where he got the dye, or how he afforded it for that matter), clutching his sides.

Maka didn't reply; she just smirked. Tsubaki had a hand over her mouth as she giggled, trying to hide her laughter. She was doing a pretty good job but Blackstar turned around to yell at her anyway.

"Stop laughing," he screamed, far more embarrassed than he was annoyed (he totally liked Tsubaki).

"So," Maka asked, "how many times is your name in the draw this year?"

"Well, my name is in there 28 extra times," Blackstar said. He didn't need to put his name in that many times, one or two would suffice but his adoptive parents, Sid and Mira were very helpful people and often gave their own rations away to the starving children (there were lots of them). So, to combat this, Blackstar started putting his name in many times. He didn't have to do this, but he did anyway. They saved his life as a child so he wanted to repay them.

Tsubaki smiled thinly, her lips pressed together tightly. She worried about her younger friends. At the age of 19 she was no longer able to be reaped. That didn't stop her worrying though. Blackstar was on his last year and Maka still had 2 or 3 more years left.

But really, there was no way Maka could be reaped. Her name was in there four times, the bare minimum for her age. That was very low odds opposed to the 14 times of some of the girls in Maka's class who had put their names in. She was the victor's daughter. What were the chances of her being chosen?

They walked together, Blackstar reaching for Tsubaki's hand as they walked closer and closer to the bustling square.

The district eleven square was a large gray wasteland. The stone was cold and unwelcoming. On the stage at the base of the capitol building stood their escort, Death the Kid ( an apt name for someone who was sending kids to their deaths). He was a young man, probably no more than 20. His hair had a ring of white around one side of his head and as Maka got closer she noticed that it was actually three stripes.

Strange how only half his head was dyed white but he was yelling about how the square was not symmetrical and that the stage needed to be moved six feet and 3 inches to the left.

"Freak," Blackstar snorted as they approached the check-in for the youth, splitting paths from Tsubaki, who moved to go stand with the rest of the adults, glancing back at them every few seconds.

Maka flashed her an easy smile the next time she caught her eye. She was not worried. There was no way she would be picked.

They filed through the line, the Peacekeepers pricking each youth's finger, identifying who they were. Blackstar kept up a constant stream of chatter. Maka only half listened to what her friend was saying. It wasn't that important.

When they reached the front of the line, Maka blankly held out her hand. The prick on her finger was sharp, but the pain only lasted a second or two, the blood welling on the pad of her pointer finger.

"Maka Albarn?" a voice inquired sounding tired. "You can head inside now." She could hear the hollow emptiness in his voice. Huh, a Peacekeeper with a soul. How rare.

She followed the others down the roped off path before splitting off to join the section for 16 year old girls.

Alot of people were standing near their friends. Some of them were stoic, some of them were shaking. Maka, however, felt no fear. Her chances of getting picked were one in a million.

"Did you hear about Meme?" a voice nearby where she was standing asked.

"No, I didn't," another replied, accompanied by a shake of the head. "What happened to her?"

"Apparently, her father told her she had not entered her name in the Tessera so when she did, her name was entered 42 times," another voice added. Maka recognized this voice as one of Meme's friends. The group of girls where all trembling as they stood together.

"Well- oh, God- this is going to sound completely horrible, but at least it's not us!" The first girl who had spoken stated, her hands shaking and her lower lip trembling. Tears had started to leak out of her eyes.

"At least it's not one of us," her friend echoed, sounding as hollow as if it was one of them.

Maka sighed, the poor girl. Meme would forget her head if it was not attached to her shoulders. It sounded cruel, but the girls were right. Compared to Meme's 42 ballots, her four was less than significant.

"Attention please. May I have your attention please." a smooth voice called out from the podium on the center of the stage. The imbalanced Man was standing there, his hands raised in a call for silence. He cleared his throat once more. "Thank you for your attention. Now, if I could direct your attention to the screen on the left, we will be watching a video of our wonderful national anthem."

When the last few notes had faded out, he smiled and stood closer to the podium once again. His pale, almost silvery complexion seemed to sparkle in the sunlight as his ridiculously impractical cloak swayed around him. He reached out a hand.

"Gentlemen first this year," he stated as he raised a single hand and lowered it into the large glass bowl. "Our male tribute is," he shouted, smiling to the audience, eyes wide with excitement. The male Tributes shifted, worried once more as Kid looked them over, from the girls side Maka could see them anxiously shifting, some of them biting their lips, others wringing their hands.

"Kilik Rung," Kid beamed as he said it, as if he had not just condemned a child to death.

Two loud wails echoed through the crowd. Kilik's younger twin siblings screamed and cried, their hands reaching for him as their mother held them back, tears in her own eyes. Kilik made eye contact with as many people as he could on his way to the stage, his back straight and tall. He strode up the stairs of the stage, Peacekeepers at his side as he moved to stand beside Kid.

"And how old are you, Kilik?" Kid asked him jovially as though he had just asked him what kind of dessert he wanted with his tea. The dark skinned boy raised his eyes to the cameras, his face blank and impassive, a far cry from his usual grin and witty reply.

"15."

If Kid was startled by the brevity of his reply he didn't show it.

"And how many times was your name in the reaping?" Kid inquired.

"Nineteen," the young boy ground out.

Kid was starting to catch on that the newest tribute was not feeling very talkative.

"Well, then! Let's pick our female tribute, shall we?"

He asked it as though he was picking the winner of a great prize. In a way, a sick twisted way, it was. If they won.

His hand dug around in the bowl before pulling out the name of the female tribute this year. When he saw whose name it was on the piece of paper, it was the closest his face ever got to sadness (Perhaps he had linked her to her father). However, it was quickly replaced by a brilliant smile.

"Our female tribute for this year is," he paused and waited a moment wanting to build up the suspense. The girls around her looked ready to pass out because of all the tension, their hands shaking as they held onto their friends. Like that would stop them from being taken.

"Maka Albarn."

Maka froze, her eyes wide as she stared at her escort. She was the tribute? Impossible! Her name had only been in there four times! Her blood was racing, roaring in her ears and rendering her unable to hear anything at all. She could see the people around her turning to face her, trying to hide the looks of relief on their faces. Some of the girls' hands had came up to cover their mouths as tears leaked out of their eyes. Others offered her a solemn nod, their eyes steeled.

She spun her head towards her father's direction, seeing his face lacking it's usual rosy color, his jaw slack. He mouthed out an apology, something Maka couldn't understand why. When the rush subsided, Maka realized the whispering going around her. She could hear fragments of it: "That's the victor's daughter," and, "She had the least chance of being called than any of us."

"I volunteer!" Maka's head snapped towards the boy's group, spotting BlackStar making his way towards the stage fast. However, the peacekeepers grabbed ahold of him before he could step foot on it. "Screw gender! Let me go!"

Maka then looked in the older crowd, the crowd that didn't have to worry about being called, and watched as Tsubaki tried making her way through the crowd towards her. However, she was also stopped by the peacekeepers who were guarding the perimeter. She didn't have to be held down like BlackStar, but she did wail a "This shouldn't have happened!"

Maka stared straight ahead, frozen in place as Kid called out to her. Her jaw was slack and her eyes were should have been impossible for her of all people to be reaped. Her name was only in there four times.

There were so many things she still wished she had done.

Well, it was too late now. The crowd parted around her, and the Peacekeepers were drawing closer to forcefully pull her from the whispering crowd. That would not be necessary.

Maka stood tall on her way to the stage. She wanted- no she needed to make a good impression if she wanted to stay alive. When she reached the stage, she took Kid's offered hand to climb up the stairs. She could have just climbed up the stairs herself. It would have been easier.

However, it was all about publicity now. She had seen her father do it often enough to know what to do. She had to smile, seem polite even if she hated them all, and act sweet. Innocent.

"So, Maka was it?" Kid asked.

Maka smiled falsely sweet, "Yes," she replied, "that's me."

"I see," Kid replied, seemingly relieved that he had at least one chatty tribute.

"I see. Maka, why don't you tell us why you look so familiar? Your last name is Albarn, is that right?"

Maka nodded. "Yes, it is. Spirit Albarn, the current victor, is my father."

Kid clapped his hands like an excited child. "Excellent, excellent! We are in for a wonderful show this year then. You have real potential. How many times was your name entered?"

"Four times," Maka answered, her eyes wide and innocent, even if she desperately wanted to growl and hit someone but she kept the calm smile on her face.

Kid actually looked surprised, "Well, then, if we could get our two tributes taken indoors, that would be fantastic." He ushered the newest tributes indoors as he waved once more to the crowds. "And remember: may the odds be ever in your favour."

The inside of the capitol building was drab as well, the walls gray and cold. There were hints of green in some places, but these places were few and far between.

The Peacekeepers were rough with them, walking fast and dragging Maka by her arms when she inevitably fell behind. They split off down the third hallway, Maka being pulled into the room on the right and Kilik going to the left.

The Peacekeepers slammed the door shut behind her.

She only had to wait a few seconds before the door was wrenched open once again. This time by her father. He was livid, his face contorted into a mask of anger. He reached out for her and pulled her into his arms, the gentle way he held her a stark contrast to his anger.

"They didn't do anything to you, did they, baby?" he asked, sounding terrified as he looked into her eyes, imploring her. She shook her head.

"Good. I'm glad you are okay," he said honestly, his voice raw.

The door swung open revealing a Peacekeeper. "You have five minutes before the next visitor," he intoned before nodding at Spirit and closing the door once again.

"Papa, you know we will be staying together. You don't need to say goodbye to me here," Maka said confused. Wouldn't he stay with her? He wouldn't leave her, would he?She knew this was usually the tribute's last time to see their family, but she had been counting on her father staying with her. As the previous victor, he was supposed to be her mentor for the Hunger Games, wasn't he? She wasn't ready to say good bye.

"I know," Spirit choked out, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed emotion. "It's just that this is our last chance to talk in private. The walls have ears in the capitol. Maka, sweetie, this will be hard on you. I know you can do it. No matter what happens, as your father, I will always love you. Please remember that. Also, always remember, all the crowd, all the Gamekeepers want is a good show. If you can prove you are interesting and they like you, you will live. Always put on a show, Maka. No matter how much it hurts you now, when you're alive later, you will be glad you did. If you ever think that you don't want to live anymore, remember Tsubaki, remember Blake, remember all your friends back home, remember your fallen allies." Remember me.

He was almost sobbing now. Maka didn't know how to deal with this. This was not her strong, brave, funny, happy father. No, this was the broken, beaten man sitting on the floor of their home with blood flowing from his fingertips as he tried to salvage and put back together the broken pieces of his marriage, of his life.

"I will, Papa," she stated, her voice wavering slightly as she pulled him in for a hug. "I will."

"Good girl," he replied, shaking even more now.

"Papa?" Maka asked, "Are you okay?"

The tears were flowing freely from his clear blue eyes now. "It's just- damn it, it's just bad enough they have taken my wife from me and now they're taking my daughter too!" He held her tighter.

Maka felt the tears in her own eyes spill over. "They won't take me away from you, Papa, I swear."

A knock sounded at the door.

"Your five minutes are up," the monotonous voice called out from the other side of the door as both father and daughter tried to pull themselves together.

Spirit pulled her in for one more quick hug, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and made for the door. "See you soon, angel."

Barely thirty seconds after the door closed behind her father, it opened to show Tsubaki. She already had tears running down her face as she immediately swept Maka into a tight hug.

Maka petted Tsubaki's hair as the older girl cried.

"Shhh, Tsu. It will be alright," Maka said softly. "I promise, it will all be fine."

After a few more seconds, Tsubaki collected herself once more as she promptly apologised and grabbed Maka's hand. They sat together on the chairs across from each other as Tsubaki sniffed again.

"I'm sorry, Maka. I came in here with every intention of comforting you, but- but here you are comforting me," her shoulders shook once again as she tightened her grip on Maka's hand. "Please stay safe. Please, come home."

It was all she could say before she collapsed into another fit of sobs. "I- I don't doubt your ability, Maka. Please come home. I need you here; Blackstar needs you here; your father needs you here. We all need you. You have to make it home, okay?" she choked out.

Maka nodded. " I will do everything in my power to get back." She would not make promises she could not keep.

Once again the harsh knock sounded at the door, their time together was up. Maka helped Tsubaki to her feet and the girl walked towards the door, only stopping briefly to say goodbye and that she loved her, that she was her best friend in the world.

Maka barely had time to return the sentiment before Tsubaki was dragged from the door by a Peacekeeper, her tears flowing freely once again.

Her last visitor was Blackstar. He didn't waste time. He immediately sat down on the chair across from Maka.

"You will try to make it back, won't you?" he asked, his voice steely.

Maka nodded, "I will try my best."

They sat in silence for a moment before Blackstar blurted out, "I'm going to propose to Tsu. We're both old enough, and I really love her; I want to spend the rest of my life with her. You were going to be the first person I would have told after I asked her, but, well, after today, I thought I would tell you first before Tsu. Just in case you don't make it back..."

Maka nodded, her hand smoothing out her dress again and again. "Congratulations. I'm sure she won't say no to you, and that you two will live a long, happy life together." Her voice never cracked, never stumbled as she congratulated him even though she felt as though her heart was being torn out.

" We will wait to have our wedding until after the Hunger Games are done," Blackstar said, his voice stiff. "To make sure you don't miss it. You will try your hardest to be there, won't you? Do you promise?" his eyes were pleading.

"I will do my best," Maka replied and for the first time, her voice caught in her throat. She would not make promises she could not keep.

Blackstar stood up, his arm outstretched to her. She took it and he pulled her up so that she was standing next to him. He hugged her then. Maka thought she could feel water hitting her collarbone, but she was not sure nor did she say anything. They hugged until the knock was heard on the door once more.

When it was time for them to board the train, the Peacekeepers went to their sides once again as they paraded them past the cameras. Kilik's siblings had tried to race after him, their tiny feet hitting the concrete as they neared their older brother. They reached for him, almost making it to the their brother before their mother pulled them Peacekeepers eyed them cautiously as they struggled and cried, desperate to escape their mother's grasp and to reach their older brother, to hug him one last time.

They never made it. The tributes, mentor and escort were forced onto the train. The window was open and before they were too far gone, Kilik was there, screaming out that he loved them and to please, please stay safe. If Maka had been paying more attention she would have noticed Spirit crying behind them, his hand over his face.

The train ride to the capital was long. Kid had tried to make conversation a few times, but Kilik had just ignored him and Maka had politely stated that she was tired and wished to rest before arriving at the capitol.

Maka was not physically tired quite yet, but she was emotionally exhausted. She wanted to nap and she wanted to do it now. When she walked into her room (an entire train car all to herself), she barely had time to register how soft the bed was before she fell asleep.

When she woke up the next day Maka experienced the moment of panic that one could get when they wake up in a strange place. Where was she?

The events of yesterday came rushing back to her like a tidal wave, threatening to knock her over and drown her. The reaping, the good byes, Kilik's family, Tsubaki's tears, Blackstar's planned proposal. Her father's breakdown.

Maka collapsed back down onto the bed as her arm fell over her face, blocking the light trying to reach her eyes and blocking her tears.

A knock sounded on the door. Eight sharp raps.

"It's time for breakfast, Maka. There is an outfit on the chair by the door for you to wear." The smooth, cool voice on the other side said. Kid.

Maka nodded before she realized he could not see her and spoke up. "Okay," was all she said and when she heard the even footsteps fade away she got off the bed. The new outfit was a black pencil skirt and a white blouse. She was glad it was modest and not to over the top, unlike most capital clothing she had seen on the escort and on the coverage of the games.

Her green dress was crumpled and wrinkled from sleeping in it. The blouse and skirt was a stark contrast to it, neatly folded and pressed perfectly flat, not a wrinkle to be seen. It was nothing short of perfect.

Before she left her room, she went over to the mirror. Her hair was tangled and knotted on one side of her head. There was a brush on the counter in front of her and she ran it through her shoulder length blond hair, the brush catching on the many tangles.

Maka sighed. Her hair had always tangled easily. She would have to convince her stylist to cut her hair off before she entered the arena. She didn't want to look like a mess in front of the cameras.

After her hair was finally straight, she looked at the vanity table where she had found the comb. There was an assortment of outrageous accessories (but two of each).

There were plenty of accessories such as small fancy hats, large hairclips, feathers, and veils that looked quite silly and in no way could ever serve a practical purpose. It took quite a few minutes before Maka could find the right accessories. Two little green ribbons.

She pulled her hair back into her favoured pigtails, the ribbons resting on either side of her head behind her ears.

Blackstar had always teased her that her pigtails made her look childish and naïve. That was just the look she would need to survive one of the most difficult challenges she would have to face: the social masquerade of the capitol.

Just to be cruel, as a small act of revenge, she loosened one of them, the hair on her left slightly lower than the one on the right. Perfect.

With that, she slipped back into her worn black boots and headed towards the tantalizing smell of breakfast.

Breakfast took place in a lavish car towards the front of the train. When Maka reached it, she found she was the last one to arrive, both Kid, Spirit and Kilik already seated. The smell of food was amazing and remind her stomach just how starving she was. On the table laid plates of bacon, ham, sausage, pancakes, biscuits, and other foods Maka had never seen before.

Kid briefly glanced up from his device to greet her shortly before taking another biscuit. He looked briefly horrified at her uneven hair, but quickly looked back down, returning his attention to his work. Her father was moodily reading the newspaper, but when his eyes reached hers, he offered her a brilliant smile. The last person seated at the train table was Kilik. He eyed the spread of food with barely concealed awe and wonder, his eyes trained on the multitude of dishes spread before him.

"This is more than we get in a week back home," he breathed out as their eyes met. Maka nodded, feeling guilty. This was just too much food. There was no way they could eat all this in one sitting. Would they get leftovers for supper? Somehow, she doubted that that would be the case.

Noticing Maka staring at the array of food spread across the table, Kid spoke up. "Eat up now. I bet you're starving. We will be arriving in the capital in thirty-five minutes. I want you perfectly presentable by then."

Maka nodded again and served herself a large serving of bacon. This felt an awful lot like her last meal.

When the train finally slowed to a stop, Kid gathered everyone by the door. He inspected each and every person closely. They all passed his test except for Maka. "I'm sorry, Maka. I tried to ignore it, but your pigtails are uneven."

Maka had to physically restrain herself from grinning evilly. Instead she smiled innocently, "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't notice."

Kid smiled but it was strained, "That's quite alright, Maka. Not everyone can be as symmetry oriented as I am."

They were shown off the train in a hurry. There was no ceremony, no celebration. The two tributes were separated from their mentor and escort. Kid shouted encouragements after them and Spirit just gave a small half wave.

Down one more hallway and Maka was pulled away from Kilik, leaving her on her own with a group of peacekeepers. The room they pushed her into was covered in stainless steel and tile. The walls were blue and rather clinical in nature, the smell of aerosol sprays permeated the cold blindingly bright room. The woman standing there was no less shiny and blue than the dress was steely gray and her blue eyes were highlighted by the scarf draped around her shoulders.

"Are you Maka?" The woman asked. When Maka nodded, the woman gave a noticeable sigh of relief. "Good, you don't look too bad right now; it won't take much to make you sparkle. I'm Liz, your stylist."

Liz held out a sparkly, manicured hand. Maka hesitantly took it and they shook hands. Liz's hands were soft, Maka marvelled. All the people back home in district eleven had rough, calloused hands, even the girls. "I'm Maka, but you already knew that."

At this, Liz laughed and took her by the elbow. She led her to the center of the room, next to the strange mixture of a table and a bed. "Alright, Maka, as your stylist it's my job to make sure you knock everyone's socks off with how smoking hot you are. So, if you will please take off your clothing so I can get your measurements, that would be extremely appreciated." Maka could hear the unspoken please don't make me bring the peacekeepers into this in her voice.

Carefully, she started to remove her shirt and skirt. When she finished she stood still and looked expectantly at Liz. "Your underwear too," the older woman said.

"But-" Maka started before Liz shot her a sharp glare.

Maka blushed bright red as she carefully pulled off her undergarments and set them to rest on the counter in a neat pile. Liz went to pull a measuring tape from the cabinet behind her and while her back was turned Maka caught herself moving to smooth her non-existent skirt. She quickly moved her hands to try and cover her chest. She felt vulnerable and exposed and she didn't like it.

Liz had found the measuring tape now and had set about measuring all around Maka at angles Maka didn't think would be helpful at all. She kept up a constant stream of chatter the entire time. "You know, I'm glad you're my tribute. Some of the others are tiny little girls with no hips and no breasts. But, you have just the right amount of assets to suit the dress I made for the opening ceremony."

Liz looked so positively excited at the thought of Maka wearing her dress that she didn't ask about the age of the youngest tributes. Instead she asked, excited despite herself, "What does my dress look like?"

"Oh, Maka, sweetie, you don't get to see it until you are completely made over."

"Oh," Maka replied and let the older woman take over the conversation once again, giving her an occasional "uh-huh?", "oh really?" or "that's horrible!" when it was required of her.

After Maka was all measured, and feeling quite uncomfortable, Liz stepped away and rolled up her measuring tape once again. "Well, I'm going to go make the finale adjustments to your outfit. Oh! My sister Patty will be here to start your makeover, so don't bother putting your clothing back on. There is a robe over there."

Maka scurried over to the offered covering, draping it around her slender body. Moments after Liz left the room, another person entered.

"Hiya!" She said, "I'm Patty!"

"Hello, I'm Maka," she returned, staring in awe at the girl who wore a dress that matched her sisters, but with the addition of a strange printed yellow and brown scarf. She seemed to give off energy like the sun.

"I know," Patty quipped before moving towards the cabinet Liz had closed when she left. "Now, let's get you made over."

The grin on her face made Maka cringe.

An hour later and Maka felt that she didn't have a single hair left on her body save the hair in her head (which had been washed so thoroughly that her scalp ached) and her eyebrows (which had been plucked to perfection). Her mouth tasted funny from the bleaching trays that were guaranteed to make her smile pure white. Patty was now cutting and filing her toe nails. She, much like her sister, let loose a constant stream of chatter.

At what Maka assumed was lunchtime, a plate of piping hot food was brought to her and Maka dug in with gusto. Being made over really made her hungry.

When Patty put the first layer of green paint on her toes Maka jumped. Patti giggled like a maniac but continued to paint, her other hand now holding Maka's ankle still.

It was around the time Patty had moved to paint Maka's finger nails, letting her toes dry before starting the second coat, that Liz came back in.

Liz offered Maka a smile that she willingly returned before the older woman moved down to find out what Patty needed help with.

The two sisters then started to share gossip with Maka. For example, the District Three mentor was having a fling with one of the two Games Keepers. It didn't mean much to Maka, not knowing the people personally, but it was a great distraction from the pressing threat of the Games.

After her nails were painted a rich green with what the sisters called brown "french tips" and studded with pale yellow jewels, they moved on to style her hair.

Liz apparently wanted her hair to be slightly wavy but mostly straight. It didn't sound too difficult to accomplish, Maka's hair generally did that on its own, but apparently it had to be absolutely perfect. Each section was straightened then given a slight curl, all while being sprayed and slathered in every single hair product imaginable and more.

Then came the time for her make up.

This was the part Maka had been dreading the most. (The waxing had been a complete surprise, not giving her time to dread it.) The sisters kept her chair facing away from the mirror the entire time they had been working on her and now was no different. They put on layer after layer of makeup, on her cheeks, her eyes and her lips. By the end of it all, she felt like she weighed five pounds more. When Patty had gotten the thumbs up from Liz, she pulled on one of Maka's perfectly manicured hands to guide her to the room Liz had disappeared to earlier.

The sisters zipped Maka into her dress and had her step into impractical shoes that Patty tied in a bow just below her knees as Liz added something very heavy to her back. They then pulled her towards the mirror, giddy with excitement.

The dress was short in the front and long in the back, reaching just above her knees and then to the floor, a hue of green a few shades darker than her nail polish. It was tighter around her torso and flowed loosely around her hips, dotted with jewels to match her nails. The top of the dress covered her chest. Above that, a see through green lace with a flower and leaf pattern covered above her neckline to her wrists.

The dress framed brown leather sandals that wrapped up to her knees. When she spinned around to see the back, she spotted brown branches with gold highlights attached to her like wings and some green leaves fluttering like feathers. They towered two feet over her head, sprouting from her lower back.

She looked beautiful, stunning, but most of all, too impractical and over the top.

The tree branched too tall, her hair was too perfect, her body too hair free, her face caked in so much make up that if she were to touch it, the makeup would rub off on her finger.

The capital sickened her. When she realized the sisters were waiting for her reaction she plastered a huge smile on her face and hoped it reached her eyes. "I love it!" Maka exclaimed, "It's so pretty!" And that was the truth, it was beautiful. The sisters apparently needed her approval because at her words they relaxed and broke into smiles.

"That's good," Liz said. "You totally rock it."

With that,they guided Maka out the door and passed the Peacekeepers, one girl holding each of her arms all the way to the place where the chariots were waiting.

When they neared, her father looked up. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

"Maka, sweetheart, you look so pretty!" He exclaimed as he reached out to touch her face.

Maka blushed (not that anyone could tell with all the makeup on her face) and opened her mouth to say thank you only to be cut off by Liz. She slapped Spirit's hands away before telling him not to touch her make up, he would ruin it.

Her father was saved from the embarrassment as Kilik walked up, surrounded by his own stylist and peacekeepers. He looked down right irritable. "I look like a tree," was all he said, sounding very put out.

"That's kind of the point," Maka stated, trying to conceal her giggling. "Would you rather look like a miner like the district twelve tributes?"

Her father cut their banter short as he moved up to them and put his hand on their shoulders, avoiding the stray branches. "Kid will be here soon. Before he arrives, I want to give you guys some last minute advice. Smile at the crowds, wave at them, pretend you want to be here. That will make you their favourite. You want their favouritism. You won't survive without it." he stated, dead serious.

Maka nodded and Kilik offered a small "Okay" before Kid walked up.

He promptly fell to the ground in a fit of anguish. "Liz," he wailed. "Why are their outfits not symmetrical?!"

Liz rolled her eyes and moved to try to pull him off the floor. "There was nothing I could do to make the branches symmetrical. Trees don't grow that way, it would have looked strange," she explained calmly, like she had done it a thousand times.

Kid sniffed one final time before accepting her hand and standing up. He turned his attention to his tributes once again.

"Remember, this is vital for our popularity," he said as if their popularity would affect him just as much as it would them. "Now then. Let's get you situated on your chariot, shall we?"

He directed his tributes towards the chariot, helping them step up to their places with Maka on the right and Kilik on the left.

In the distance, Maka could hear an authoritative voice yelling for everyone to get into their positions.

As Kid started to walk away towards the V. I. P. box he and the other escorts would be sitting in, Spirit turned to them one last time. "Remember what I told you." With that he moved to follow the stylists and the escort out.

At this point Maka looked around at their fellow tributes. These would be the people who she would be fighting with in a few days. She didn't want to hurt or kill anyone, she wanted to stop this madness, this senseless violence, but she could not. The best she could do was don her mask and play along with their sick, twisted game. They were all so young. Their extravagant costumes trapping them under piles of fabric and make up, hiding what they really looked like from view. She could still read their expressions though, their emotions were something the Capitol wouldn't be able to cover or change, no matter how hard they tried. The Games made her feel sick to her stomach.

Soon enough, the first chariot started moving. The district one tributes stood tall and condescendingly proud as their chariot pulled away, their hands firmly holding on to the hand rail. Soon the second followed, then the third. One after another the chariots went forward, down the path towards the open centre of the stadium.

Soon enough, it was their turn. Their chariot began moving forward. Maka turned to Kilik.

"Are you ready?" She asked, her voice trembling.

"No."

The chariot raced down the passageway to the stadium entrance, the wheels clattering hard and fast against the ground, mirroring her heart beat. The skirt of her dress waved behind her like leaves on a tree during a summer breeze as they emerged out into the bright lights of the stadium.

Maka blinked the light from her eyes, belatedly noticing the echoing cheers that thundered around them.

Her mask was firmly on. The masquerade had begun.

The first thing she noticed about the overzealous masses was that they were all dressed fancily and that they were throwing flowers.

She smiled brightly showing off her newly whitened teeth as the jewels on her dress sparkled.

She waved a manicured hand and waved to the crowd. The cheering was louder now. Beside her, Kilik raised his own hand, giving the crowd a wave and an easy smile.

A flower landed on their chariot. Kilik shot her a conspiring grin and handed her the white carnation. She blushed, taking it and placing it behind her right ear.

The cheers increased in volume.

The chariots pulled towards the raised podium where the President stood to give his speech was short, wishing everyone a happy Hunger Games, and thanking the tributes for their sacrifice. Like this pretentious bastard even ended his speech by saying, "May the odds be ever in your favour."

With that, the chariots circled the open rounded part of the stadium once more before moving towards the smaller entrance to the training grounds. Maka turned around and waved at the crowd as they left.

As soon as the large steel door closed behind them, blocking the view of the stadium, they were swarmed by people,peacekeepers, mentors and escorts alike. The escorts that had gotten their tributes already were critiquing performances and giving them advice for the next time they were to face the audience.

When Maka saw Kid and her father approaching she tried to remain calm. What if she did a horrible job and had ruined it for Kilik and herself?

If Kid's face was any indication they had done a good job, the man was practically glowing. "Great work, you two," he said, his excitement seeping into his voice, "The crowd loved you, your outfits caught their attention and when you, Kilik, gave Maka that flower, the audience went wild. They loved you!" He pointed at Kilik and then Maka, obviously pleased with their performance.

"Yes, very nice," Spirit bit out, "They loved you, but I think we should get going. We need to be up and ready by ten tomorrow. That's when training starts."

With that, the group moved down the hall towards the high speed elevators that would take them up to the eleventh floor, which was where they would be staying until the start of the Games.

When they finally reached the elevators, almost all of the tributes were already gone to take their tributes upstairs. Maka was hoping that they would get an elevator all to themselves, but that didn't seem to be so. The only one left already held three people, one of which was gesturing for them to join them, her hand stopping the elevator door from closing. Maka hoped that her father would wave them off in favour of waiting for another elevator, but he moved forward, walking into the elevator, Kid following behind him.

The look her papa shot her and Kilik over his shoulder clearly reminded them that their masks were to still stay on. Maka glanced over at Kilik and he shrugged before taking a discretely cautious step into the moving box of death.

The elevators themselves were unsettling, Maka decided, as they moved at an almost unnoticeably smooth speed before pulling to a slightly jerky stop. But they were not as unsettling as the other tributes in there with them. One of them had red eyes. Red. Maka had seen some pretty strange things since she arrived in the capital, but she had yet to see someone with pure red eyes. Pair those with the white hair he had and-

Were his teeth sharp?

The other girl was also really creepy. Herlong black hair covered a lot of her face and she had long black nails. Their outfits werepretty ridiculous. Theywere wearing blue skin-tight suits with silver lines and circles all over them. Another thing they both had in common was that they were both eerily comfortable with the elevator, their hands at their sides or crossed across their chests as they casually leaned against the wall.

Maka was pulled out of her inner judgments by her papa's voice. "These are my tributes for this year," he addressed the blonde women who was wearing an eyepatch, of all things. "This is Kilik, and this is my daughter, Maka." He gestured to each of them in turn, his voice breaking as he stumbled over the word daughter before schooling his voice to be falsely casual once again.

Maka smoothed her skirt as the woman introduced herself to be Marie and her tributes to be Sadoko and Soul (his teeth were sharp, she could tell when he flashed them a grin).

They rode in tense silence until the elevator stopped at what the electronic display said was floor three. Marie politely excused herself and her two tributes followed suit, walking out of the elevator.

The doors closed behind them.

When they reached their floor and walked out into the richly decorated room, Maka's jaw dropped.

The table and chairs where mahogany, the floor was marble, and the decorations were overly extravagant. Kid walked in like it was not the fanciest room he had ever seen (it was hard to miss the twitch that he seemed to be experiencing at the lack of balance, though). Her father followed him out of the elevator, his steps measured as he casually walked over to a large, green armchair and collapsed in it.

"You two should probably take off these costumes. Avoxes are in your room to help you," Kid said causally.

Avoxes were servants who had their tongues cut out. They did the work that the people commanded of them. It was thought that they were once citizens of the districts who had betrayed or disrespected the capital. Maka shuddered. Not being able to speak would be awful.

She and Kilik walked down the hallway together, their tree branches brushing each other and casting strange shadows around the hall until they split off again to their respective rooms. As he opened his door, Kilik turned to her one last time, but she couldn't read his look. The door closed with an ominous click behind him.

The door was heavy, her name printed neatly at eye level. The doorknob was smooth and cold in her hand as she slowly, apprehensively, turned it.

It swung open silently, revealing the large bed. A matching dresser and chair set stood lonesomely along the walls. The walls where extravagant and plain at the same time.

The man in the centre of the room was dressed in the same fashion that the room was designed. Maka's eye caught on the black hair that was cut just long enough to cover one eye.

"Akane?" Maka asked, shocked. He had disappeared years ago, when Maka had been 12. He had been caught spying on the head peacekeeper and sharing the information with the people of district eleven.

When he nodded, not speaking Maka could guess what had happened.

"Did they cut out your tongue?" Maka asked, horrified.

He nodded once again, moving smoothly to help her remove the large branches. His hands barely brushed her at all as he undid the buckles that held the branches tied to her. When he got them undone, he moved to remove them, they caught on her hair and pulled, causing her to gasp in pain.

Akane made a sort of humming panicked noise, his fingers quickly seeking out the tangle and gently undoing it. When he got the branches off of her back, he stood in front of her, his body language submissive and fearful. It was then that she noticed. His nose was the wrong shape- like it had been broken more than once already, his had slight bruising, coated with make-up covering his skin.

Maka didn't know what to say, she couldn't console him, she didn't know what had happened. Just as she moved to speak, a loud, sharp knock sounded from the door and echoed around the room, followed by a voice. "Maka, are you almost ready? It's almost time for dinner." Kid asked, his voice cool and calm, as always.

Maka was just about to speak up and shout that this was not ok, the boy without a tongue in her room was a boy from her district who was just trying to survive, that the Capitol had absolutely no right to do things like that. It was then that Akane put his hand on her wrist, closing around it, like a vice and shook his head rapidly. Maka stared at him for a few seconds before turning towards the door once more, plastering a large cheery smile onto her face once more. "It's fine, Kid, I will be there soon."

After she stopped speaking Akane let go of her wrist as though it had burned him and gently guided her towards the gilded mirror in the bathroom to assist her with removing the make up the sisters had caked onto her face before guiding her towards the shower and stepping out of the room.

Maka stepped under the warm water before stopping. Did it smell like roses?

She laughed now- not a happy laugh, a hateful, disgusted laugh. Her friends were starving to death and she was taking a shower that smelled like flowers before she would go to a meal with enough food that she could feed six families back at home. A home she would never see again because the stupid, pompous, rose-smelling idiots needed entertainment.

She wanted to hit something, she wanted to scream, she wanted to cry.

But the masquerade had already begun.

After her shower, Maka pulled a fluffy white towel around her chest and moved to open the door, where she had heard a soft knock. Akane stood outside, holding up a change of clothing for her. She took them from him and turned back to the washroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Two minutes later she stepped out again, the clothing he had handed her were some of Liz's creations, like she would be wearing for the rest of the games.

Akane guided her to the mirror at the makeup desk once again and pulled out the chair for her, before standing behind her and combing her hair. He swiftly pulled it into twin pigtails, level on her head, before helping her to her feet one, finale time. She looked up at him, at his one, visible eye before he suddenly reached down and tugged on one of her pigtails, a soft smile on his face.

Maka blushed softly before grinning up at him. Just like when they were kids and Akane and his best friend Clay would stop by Sid's house when her and Blackstar were playing outside. It hurt her heart.

He smiled gently once more before placing a gentle hand on the small of her back and guiding her in the direction of the door, while he stayed in the centre of the room.

She almost had her hand on the cool door knob when he made a noise behind her. It was a desperate, pained noise and when she turned towards him, he took three fingers, kissed them and held them up. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favour. Maka gave him a sad smile and nodded, her hand settled on the door knob.

With one last look over her shoulder she pulled the door open and left. The door swung shut behind her.

The noise he had made sounded like a hummed version of her name.

A few feet down the hall, Kilik sat on the floor, his head in his hands. He looked up when she walked towards him.

"Your avox," he said, sounding pained. "Was it..." He trailed off.

"Yeah, it was Akane," Maka said her voice flat.

"And was he also-"

Maka cut him off, this time. "Yes."

Kilik dropped his head into his hands once more. "Fuck, this is so damn fucked up," he, sighed out, shaking. Maka nodded her face pale as she rubbed her skirt with her sweatly palms before she offered Kilik one and when he took it, she pulled him up.

They walked down the hallway to dinner in silence, together.

Dinner itself was a subdued affair. They ate in tense silence, aside from Kid who tried to keep the conversation going, but soon he too gave up and that night as Maka lay in bed, unable to sleep, she felt bad for not talking to him.

Spirit put on a bright, bright smile and woke up his daughter at eight, the same time Kid woke up Kilik.

After she was awake, Spirit left her room so that she could get ready for the day. He wandered down the hallway from her room to the dining area.

She was so much like her mother. Her eye colour. Her hair. Her way of speaking. She was just like her mother.

And now the Capital was taking her away from him too.

Spirit had never wanted to cheat on his wife, he had only wanted to protect her. When the Capitol had given him the choice of do what they wanted or they would hurt his wife and daughter, his choice had been simple. He would do whatever he had to, to keep them safe.

If the Capitol made him sleep with strangers so be it. As long as it kept them safe.

But Kami didn't understand. She didn't know the true evil of the Capitol. She thought the affairs where of his own violation. It had tiredly hurt him that she didn't trust him that much. She never understood, never listened to what he tried to say to her about it.

No. She believed he did it in purpose, that he enjoyed it.

After his wife left him it got worse. Now that he was single more and more people wanted him, they didn't feel shame about it anymore. He would use them sometimes, getting paid in pretty things and books for his daughter, supplies for his tributes. He would do it again this year too. He had to. This was his daughter, the last family he had left. She was everything he worked to protect. And now he might lose her to something he couldn't control.

He was sad, and angry, and scared. He didn't want to lose her, he couldn't lose her.

Over breakfast, the smile that had seemed so evident on Spirit's face had disappeared. His happy mood gone, replaced by the quiet, shy man she had learned to recognize as her father over the last 24 hours.

When he spoke, his voice was flat, even as he told them to try every single station in the training, that it could probably save their life at one point or another in the games.

Maka and Kilik agreed to try everything, their eyes meeting across the table.

At 9:30 Kid brought them the clothing their stylists had made them for training. They were lightweight, dark green cotton t-shirts with their district logo in yellow across the front and stretchy pants. While Kilik's where more baggy, Maka's were very form fitting and when she asked, Kid shrugged and said that Liz wanted her to show off her butt. Maka flushed bright red at this, her cheeks burning. How dare Liz say that as though this was a joke.

All the same, they walked together to the elevator, Spirit pushing the button to take them to the bottom, basement floor where training was.

The training hall itself was very vast.

There were many different rooms with weapons and targets inside them, sealed behind a wall of glass. There were also high blocks, climbing walls, a running track and many skills booths. The booths taught many different skills that would be important for their survival in the games. The tall glass stretching to the roof, sealing the people inside away, almost like a cage where they would be studied and watched 24/7. Like the arena.

Spirit and Kid went into a different elevator with many of the other mentors as Maka and Kilik moved to join the other tributes.

The first day of training passed fairly quickly. Maka learned how to scale walls and how to use various weapons, the bow and arrows hurt her arms but the swords were easy enough to use. To hack and slash.

During the half hour lunch break, the tables where piled high with food and treats. None of the tributes spoke, save for a few people who spoke to the other person from their districts.

All of them looked distinctly guilty at the wasted food.

The second day, Maka made a friend.

The youngest tribute was 13. She was small and thin, and she looked like she was really afraid to be here.

When Maka met her, she was climbing the rock wall.

The girl had climbed up almost 25 feet from the top of the wall where she had taken a break.

This was where Maka had passed by her. The girl was panting heavily from the strain of clinging to the wall while Maka just climbed straight up, her tree climbing background perfect for this.

Maka smiled down at her encouragingly. "You can do it!" She grinned, before taking off up the wall once again.

That day lunch the girl came and sat beside Maka and Kilik, introducing herself as Tsugumi Halberd.

Maka had smiled and chatted with the younger girl, Tsugumi's smile was contagious.

That night when she told her father about her new friend he didn't look to pleased.

On the third and final day of training, Tsugumi had her formerly loose hair in pigtails.

Together, Tsugumi and Maka moved through the activities, like lock picking- which Maka didn't have the patience for- and bandaging minor wounds . Tsugumi skipped some activities, but Maka did them all.

That night Spirit told his tributes to choose what they would be showing the judges. This was a very, very important part of the games. The judges would give each tribute a score, this would help people to choose who to bet on. The people with the higher scores were more likely to get bet on and the people who got the most bets also got the most sponsors.

Maka didn't know what she was going to do. She had no overly impressive skills. Kilik looked worried as well, his face scrunched up as he thought. Maka knew she looked the same.

She could use most weapons well but she didn't know how impressive that would be to the judges. She would have to think of something, however, she needed to get a good score to succeed.

That night as she lay in her bed, she stared at the ceiling, her hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets as she thought.

She didn't know what to do.

Her turn for the training score showing came sooner thaen she had expected.

She wiped her sweaty palms on the pants of her training suit, her heart beating in her ears as she walked over to the centre of the room to begin. May the odds be ever in your favour, she thought grimly.

Spirit stared at the television with apprehension;, the scores

would be displayed soon and he needed Maka and Kilik's scores to be high enough. He felt guilty that if he had to choose which tribute lived, and he knew he would, that he would chose Maka over Kilik.

It hurt him to think that, that he would do that, but Maka was his daughter. He had to protect her, to save her from the Capitol.

He didn't know if that meant letting her live or die in the Games, yet.

The scores were playing across the screen now, alongside the tributes photograph. The scores looked very average so far, a few nines, a seven, and an eight. All too soon Maka was next. Spirit waited with baited breath next to Kid, next to Kilik, next to Maka, as his daughter's face played in the screen, soon accompanied by a number.

She got a 10.

Thank god. Spirit almost cried with relief at how high her score was and that she was still safe for now. He would keep her safe until the end, for as long as she could.

Kilik got a 9.

Spirit pretended that he didn't feel glad Maka had scored higher, the knife twisting in his heart.

The next day was spent in a flurry of activity, Kid prepping the tributes for going on stage to be interviewed. Telling them what was ok and what was not ok to say and do.

Once they were significantly prepared, they were swiftly marched down the concrete hallway towards the dressing rooms where they were dressed in their fancy dresses and suits.

Maka had been put in a dark green silk dress, that almost looked black in the shadows. But in the light, it shimmered and sparkled vividly green. The layers of the dress swisheding around her high heeled feet as she walked towards the large mirror to see Liz and Patty's work this time.

She looked stunning once again. Her arms and shoulders bare, with jewels glued to her skin starting over her heart and spreading out over the rest of her torso before winding down her arms before coming to a stop at the ends of her fingers. The jewels sparkled green and black, with the occasional red one placed into the flower pattern. Her hair was curled up in a high bun, a flower crown resting around the bun.

Kilik's suit was dark green, his shirt underneath was a lighter, pale green- almost yellow, and his tie was in the middle of the two colours. His hair had been rebraided and he stood tall, the jacket fitting his broad shoulders quite well.

All too soon it was time to stand backstage and wait for their turns.

The first few people went, answering the questions as they went. Maka didn't pay attention to all of the tributes, just the ones she knew. The white haired boy from the elevator- Soul, if she recalled correctly, strode onto the stage towards the chairs as though he owned the place. His suit was a perfect fit, as far as Maka was concerned. The fabric was black pinstripe and his shirt and tie were both shades of red as well. He wore the suit like he was born in it.

Blair, the purple haired hostess was immediately enamoured with him, asking him all about his skills, likes and dislikes. All while slowly leaning closer to him, her smile giddy, when she asked him if it was true he played piano.

"How did you find out about that?" Soul asked, looking confused and slightly creeped out. His left hand tapped a frantic rhyme on the leg of his pants before he forced himself to stop, folding his hands together in an act of false indifference.

"I have my ways," Blair said sneakily, grinning like a cat. "It's true though, isn't it?"

Soul nodded, his arms now resting on the sides of his chair and he crossed his leg over the other one. "It's true," he confirmed. "I can play, I have been since I was two, but I'm not very good."

Blair and the audience looked shocked, her hand coming up to her face, covering her mouth before taking her hand away. "I'm sure you are fantastic," she squealed. "How about," she said, pausing for dramatic effect, shaking her finger towards Soul and the audience, " if you win the games, I'll hire you to play at my next party! Wouldn't that be wonderful, ladies and gentlemen?" She asked, turning her attention to the audience once more.

The crowd cheered loudly, showing their approval.

Then the hostess turned her attention back to Soul, asking "What do you say, do we have a deal?" She held out her soft, manicured hand.

Soul grinned and nodded, taking her hand and shaking it. "Deal," he said.

After that, Maka zoned out of the conversation, remembering what Kid and Spirit had told her hours earlier.

She was not to be snippy, rude or mean, no matter what Blair said. She would answer the questions in a way that would appeal to the Capitol. She would not say bad things about the games- Spirit had added this when Kid had left to take a call.

She was to be friendly and honest but not too confideant, but not so unconfident that no one would like her.

All too soon, it was her turn. Blair called her name as Kid guided her his hand on the middle of her back, towards the curtain that would take her up onto the stage. She barely had time to place on her mask of courage before she was pushed through.

The lights where blinding, the cheers loud and echoing as she made her way towards Blair unsteadily. When she got there, her blood roaring in her ears, she shook Blair's hand and allowed the purple haired women to guide her to her seat.

"So, Maka," Blair started. "How are you finding the Capitol. It is your first time here, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's my first time here, I kind of like it, I think it's all so fancy and extravagant!" Maka excitedly exclaimed, letting the excitement get to her as she sat on a brightly light stage looking over a crowd of people.

"Oh?" Blair asked, her hands coming to clasp together as she learned against the armrest of her chair. "Like what?"

"Everything, the rooms, the showers, the clothing, everything," Maka smiled.

"Yeah, your dress is very pretty, would you like to show it off?" Blair asked the devious, cat like smile on her face once more. "Stand up and twirl for us!"

Maka smiled as she complied. She delicately stood up, glad she had spent all that time training with Kid on how to walk in heels (he was quite graceful).

Her dress swished softly around her as she spun, the light glinting off the fabric and the jewels.

When she sat down, Blair was clapping, as was most of the audience, the sounds echoing thunderously around the room. Maka smiled as she moved towards the chair. Her head was still spinning as Blair offered Maka her hand when she stumbled, both women giggling. As Blair helped lower her into her chair, a smile on her face.

"Wasn't she beautiful?" Blair asked the crowd who in response, cheering louder than ever.

Maka blushed prettily before turning back to Blair who had another question for her.

"So, who is your stylist? I absolutely must get something from them They do a wonderful job!" Blair asked.

Maka smiled even wider, her eyes searching through the crowd before her eyes fell on her stylist. "That's her," Maka stated, pointing at her, "That's Liz Thompson!"

Liz stood up and waved jovially, her silvery-blue dress glimmering in the spotlight that was placed on her.

"I see," Blair said approvingly, staring out towards Liz and asking, "Can you design something in purple?"

Liz yelled that she could for sure, and gave Maka a thumbs up. Maka waved in return.

Once all the noise had subsided, Blair turned to Maka once again. "So, let's get serious for a moment," she said. "Is it true that you are the daughter of the previous victor from District Eleven?"

Maka nodded, not daring to open her mouth.

Blair's eyes filled with concern and compassion for the young girl. "And how does your mother feel about you going to the Hunger Games as well?"

At this Maka's already dropping smile dropped completely away. "I don't know, I haven't seen her since I was eight," Maka admitted.

Blair gasped, "Do you mean that you have been raised without a mama?" Her voice was anguished and when Maka nodded, Blair practically wailed. "You poor darling, "she cried out.

Maka shrugged, her fingers smoothing her dress as she replied, "It's not so bad, I had other female role models to look up to."

Blair looked relieved at that, her voice still sad, "but does this mean if you don't win the Hunger Games your poor papa will be all alone?"

Maka nodded, fighting back tears "Yeah," she said, "That's why I have to win."

She took the tissue that had been offered to her, sniffling softly, before apologising, "I'm sorry, it's just hard for me to think about," she said, her voice just the right amount of shaky.

Once Blair assured her that it was ok, that Maka need not worry about this, she helped her stand, pulled her into a tight hug before telling the audience her name one last time.

With that Maka walked off the stage, giving one last wave at the crowd.

Maka barely made it past the heavy blue curtain before she was bombarded. The first person to reach her was the blonde woman with the eye patch she had met in the elevator. As soon as Maka was within grabbing distance, Marie reached up and pulled Maka into a tight hug sobbing about how sad she was for Maka, and how that she would be her mother now, she had always wanted a child.

It took a few minutes, but Marie finally calmed down enough that Maka could untangle herself from the older woman guilt free. It was then that Marie exclaimed that she was going to go find Spirit and tell him that Maka was her daughter now!

Once Marie had composed herself enough, she marched away, her footsteps even.

It was then that Soul spoke up.

"You really nailed that sad stuff, they ate that right up," he stated, his shoulders slumped and his hands in the pockets of his pants.

Maka smiled, "I'm glad you think so, I was worried I had overdone it."

Soul's grin was snarky as he assured her that any forty year old parent would be sure to sponsor her now.

The last night before the Hunger Games, Maka lay in her bed. She couldn't sleep, she was to apprehensive for what was going to happen tomorrow. She had been tossing and turning under the warm, soft covers for 30 minutes when someone knocked lightly on her door, as though they were scared to wake her.

"Come in," Maka softly called out.

The heavy door creaked open to show her father. He looked tired and older then she had ever seen him look before. He walked over to her bed as she sat up. Her papa lowered himself to sit on the side of the bed, wrinkling the once pristine sheets.

"Maka, sweetheart," he started, "I want you to know this, tomorrow we won't have time to speak much, least of all in private. I love you, Maka. I don't want you to ever doubt that, ok?" He said, his voice shaking.

Maka looked up at him, his eyes were misty, and his fists clenched in her blankets.

"I know, papa. I know. I love you, too," she replied, her voice choked.

He hugged her then, he was gentle but desperate. She was his last family he had left. Once her arms wrapped around him in return they stayed that way for a short time before Spirit pulled away.

"You better get some sleep," he started, "you will have a long day tomorrow and you have to get up early." The shadows blocked his eyes, making his face hard to read.

"Good night, papa," Maka called towards his retreating back.

When he reached the door, he opened it, and turned towards her one last time as he stepped through it. "Good night, Maka" he said as the door closed with an oppressing sense of finality.

The next morning came much too soon.

Maka had managed to get at least six hours of sleep before she was woken up by Liz, who looked as immaculate as ever. She held out the clothing she had chosen and made especially for Maka.

The black jacket was warm and water proof, the pants lightweight canvas and flexible with many, many pockets. The t-shirt was green and light. The boots where a perfect fit. They were heavy, but didn't weigh so much as to cause her to move slower, but just the right amount of heavy that she could break someone's nose if she tried (apparently Patty had tested them).

"Liz, could you please cut my hair shorter?" Maka asked, while she was getting ready.

"No!" Liz gasped, "no, you look so pretty with long hair, I can't cut it off!"

"But, it will just get in the way," Maka said, trying to convince her to change her mind.

Liz shook her head, "No," her tone final.

After getting dressed, Maka went to go have breakfast with the others. The meal itself was a subdued affair. Everyone seemed to recognize the end of it all as they sat in silence.

After breakfast, they said their good byes. It was the worst. Liz and Patty said theirs to Maka, pulling her into a tight hug, Kid shook hands with both his tributes, wishing them luck. Spirit was the last to say good bye. He bro-hugged Kilik before moving to hold Maka. When they pulled away, he spoke out in a choked voice, "I managed to get into contact with Blackstar back home. Tsubaki said yes to his proposal. They are getting married after the games. They really want you to be there. Please do your best to be there for their wedding. Also, a Blackstar said - and I agree, you should feel free to use it as a reason to get home, use it to bribe the citizens of the Capitol, heaven knows they love a good party, weddings included. He also said that you should stay safe and try your best to get back to us." Her Papa took a shuddering breath and looking at his daughters face, tears streaming down his own before starting to talk again, "Good bye Maka, I love you."

Maka barely had time to return it before the Peacekeepers swept them out of the doors, and down the hallway. She tried to pull herself together as she and Kilik were guided down the hall. Just before they rounded the last corner, Kilik spoke up, asking the Peacekeepers to pause for a moment, they did, though they didn't lower their weapons.

Kilik used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the tears from her face. "Are you ok?" He asked, his voice serious.

Maka nodded, then smiled. Her mask was back in place as she thanked him and together they moved forwards with the peacekeepers once more.

Their destination was a large hover craft that was parked inside of the large building. The peacekeepers stayed behind in the ground as the tributes entered the plane and took their seats.

The attendants double checked that the safety harnesses were tightly fastened across the tributes chests before the captain took off, flying away.

The ride was smooth. They were in the air for only a few minutes before the attendants came around one more time, this time with a demonic looking tool.

The first tribute they went to was a career boy from district four. They asked him to give them his arm, and he did as they asked, without much complaining. They levelled the gun at his arm and pulled the trigger, causing him to hiss in pain.

"What the fuck was that?" He spat.

"That was your tracker," the women replied, her voice blank before turning to the next person, "give me your arm."

Not long after Maka was rubbing her arm. It wasn't a bad pain but it was unlike one she had ever felt before. The initial insertion was painful and her arm still stung, but what made it different was the fact that the tracker was still inside her arm. It was all around unpleasant.

Not too long after, the hovercraft lowered them to the ground.

The tributes where then unbuckled and separated, guided down different hallways by Peacekeepers to rooms where they were left inside. These rooms were painted stark white and had a strange tube-like object in one corner.

"Please step into the transportation device," a metallic voice rang out in the room. "You have 20 seconds."

Maka looked around. The 'transporter device' looked closed but as she walked closer it opened, releasing a hiss of air.

"Please step into the transportation device, you have 10 seconds."

Maka stepped into the glass tube as the countdown started. It was not a tight fit, but it also wasn't very roomy.

One the countdown reached zero, the metal plate on the bottom of the tube started to move upwards, pushing Maka into the sunlight.


	2. Crawls like a Bird from a Worm

The sun shone brightly in the sky, not a cloud in sight. As Maka looked around, she saw the arena for the first time. She didn't dare stare for too long, the Games would be starting soon, she needed to find a way to get out of there.

Ten.

That would be easier said than done. The Cornucopia- which held the weapons and supplies that the tributes would need- and the tribute platforms were all at the very top of a large staircase, in front of a large building that almost looked like a school.

Nine.

The stairs looked as though they went on forever but Maka had no doubt that she would have to use them.

Eight.

She had to use them and get lost in the streets far below.

Seven.

Maka looked down, the ring around her platform was charged with electricity, ready to shock and kill her if she stepped away too quickly before the countdown had finished.

Six.

Maka glanced around at all the other tributes faces. Many of them looked blank, their expressions empty.

Five.

Some of them looked scared. It was a commonly known fact that sometimes up to 50% of the tributes died in the first day.

Four.

As soon as the countdown ended, Maka would run and hide. Hide for a few days, and just try to survive. It was a good plan.

Three.

She needed a weapon though. Was it worth the risk to try and grab one? Or was it better to escape?

Two.

Maka shifted her weight back and forth, before rubbing her palms on her new pants.

One.

With that, the plates at the tributes' feet lost their charge.

Go.

Maka ran forward, her blood pounding in her ears. Her hands slick with sweat as she grabbed at the first item she found: a backpack.

Bang.

The sound of the first cannon echoed over the arena. She glanced around quickly. Her eyes quickly settled on a large scythe.

That would be perfect, as she was from a farming district she had been around sickles from a young age and had messed around with spinning them many times.

She ran quickly towards the weapon. Just as she reached it and was about to grab it, she saw another hand reaching for it.

She quickly looked upwards, towards the other person's face. His red eyes were panicked and fearful as he lifted his hands away from the scythe, looking into her eyes as he backed up before running off.

Maka didn't stay to watch where he ended up. She grabbed the scythe and ran towards the stairs, dodging the arrows shooting past her.

Ahead of her, the girl from Soul's district took an arrow in the back of the thigh, falling forward with an anguished scream. The blood gushed out of the wound on the back of her leg. Her screams cut off abruptly when the next arrow was lodged into her head. A loud bang echoed as a cannon went off.

Maka kept running, taking the stairs as many as she could at a time without tripping. Her backpack was heavy on her shoulders and the scythe rather unwieldy in her hands. She needed to get away now.

The first arrow only brushed her leg, leaving a small cut. It stung but there was no time to think about that, the archer at the top of the stairs surely had loaded another arrow by now.

Maka jumped.

There were only two flights of stairs left. Two. Then she would be free into the darkened streets of the arena.

An arrow made a dull twanging noise as it hit the ground ten feet behind her, she was safe for now.

She risked a glance behind her, spying the short figure of the man who had shot at her.

* * *

><p>She had almost made it into the darkened streets of the city before she heard the third cannon.<p>

Professor Stein watched with casual indifference as the white haired female tribute ran down one of the many side streets in the arena. She was panting, her chest heaving as she turned to run down an alleyway only to come face to face with a large snake.

This caught Stein's interest. There shouldn't be any simulated animals yet. "Who put that snake there?" He asked as Eruka screamed in fear and ran in the opposite way.

The snake was following her now. Stein was torn; should he make the snake go away, or allow this to play out?

A long nailed hand came to rest on his shoulder before trailing up his neck to rest against his face.

"I put that snake there," Medusa, his fellow Gameskeeper said smoothly in his ear. "She is carrying the bombs. I want her to use them soon."

Stein nodded, "Ok," he said indifferently. "Let's see where this goes."

The girl ran closer and closer to the starting point, the school at the top of the hill, her arms clutching at the suitcase where Medusa had put the bombs.

Even after the she reached the stairs, the snake didn't stop, and neither did Eruka. She ran up the stairs.

There were tears in her eyes now as she ran. It looked as though her legs were trembling as sweat rolled off her face along with tears.

She had scraped her arms and legs on her way here, Stein noted. Perfect.

She was nearing the top of the hill now. She looked up towards the top of the hill and down toward the bottom, the two directions where her enemies might be. The snake was still hot on her tail but the top of the hill how ever was almost empty.

The one boy from district twelve- the screen identified him as Kishin Asura- looked at her nervously, the cuts on his arms dripping blood. He could see Eruka gulp and whimper, and Kishin grinned.

Eruka sprinted as he started to give chase, her panic making her go faster. The snake and the boy guided her towards the entrance of the school before the snake disappeared, sliding away.

Kishin chased her. Though she had started out much further away from him at the start, he quickly closed the distance between them before there was less than forty meters between them.

Eruka seemed to realize that she was going to be caught soon. Her legs ached, the suitcase dragged behind her as she ran, trying to open the doors as she went.

Medusa cackled, "Should we open a door for her?"

Stein grinned. "Yes."

* * *

><p>Eruka was afraid. The bloody madman was chasing her through the halls of what seemed to be a really large school.<p>

She had been trying to open what doors she could, but none of them were unlocked. Her legs were shaking with the strain and exertion of running for such a long time.

She twisted the doorknob as violently as her sweaty palms would allow, but when none of the doors opened, her panic grew.

Finally, _finally _one of the doors opened. It was the door to a storage closet, but a door all the same. Eruka collapsed in the room, shutting and locking the door behind her before pulling out the suitcase she had been so unwilling to part with to find out what was inside.

She flipped the silver coloured locks and lifted the heavy lid, her arms straining.

Bombs. Inside the suitcase were some small bombs and some paint. In a panic, Eruka tried to calm her breathing. She dipped her fingers in the paint, drawing eyes and a mouth on one of the bombs in white paint before reaching for the black. Her hands were shaking, and she dropped the jar to the ground, it ran like black blood across her closet, staining her hands black. She drew two little pupils on the bombs before pressing her palms to her cheeks, leaving two large black circles. The arena was a masquerade and she needed her costume, needed it to feel stronger.

Strangely enough, the paint made her feel better, more brave. It was _her _mask.

Eruka stood, a grin on her face as she clutched one of her newly decorated bombs.

She wasn't afraid anymore. She opened the door.

* * *

><p>So, she had opened the case. Stein grinned, their experiment was going even better than they had expected.<p>

Eruka had now opened the door, a bomb clutched in her hand. Kishin walked towards her, a confident smirk on his face, which Eruka returned. When she grinned back, his faltered, he glanced at the bomb clutched in her hand and his face paled.

Eruka grinned once more before tossing it towards him.

It rolled forward, stopping face up at the Kishin's feet. He never had time to look away. The small bombs eyes were the last thing he saw as it exploded, the flames engulfing him.

"Ready the cannon," Medusa said.

* * *

><p>Maka ran until her legs felt like lead, and then she ran some more. She ran until her legs ached and her chest was heaving. By the time she stopped running, the sun was setting in the sky.<p>

The first door she tried to open opened and Maka thanked whoever was watching over her that it did.

As soon as she locked the door behind her, the Capitals national anthem started and the names of the dead flashed across the sky.

That night, she fell asleep in a random apartment building, the light from the full moon streaming through the window.

The next morning, she was starving. Her stomach growled and her legs ached. She needed to find some food.

Before she set out again, she opened the large, heavy purple backpack she had grabbed in her panic the day before. Maka cautiously unzipped the largest pouch, pulling out a rope, a water bottle, a water purifier and a sleeping bag.

The smaller pouch held a mug, a spoon and a decently sized knife. All in all it was a good selection of goods.

With a sigh, Maka shouldered her backpack, clutching the straps of her bag where it rested against her shoulders. She squeezed the door knob in her hand, not quite ready to leave the safety of her room quite yet.

But she had to. She was hungry, her stomach growling loudly. Slowly, Maka eased open the door.

The sun was boiling hot. Maka immediately wanted to go hide indoors once again. But she had to move forward, find a store or a garden or something, because keeping herself in good physical condition was almost as important as appearances.

Maka started down the darkened alley ways. She was completely lost, her memories of arriving here last night were fuzzy, composed of echoing footsteps and harsh breaths.

She turned to her left, her full backpack bouncing against her back as she moved, walking as quietly as she could at a brisk pace. She glance all around her all the time, her eyes never on the same object for more than two seconds.

She had been walking for what felt like half an hour before she stumbled across what appeared to be a corner store. When she opened the door, a bell sounded, ringing loudly around the room.

Maka froze. The bell could have alerted anyone nearby to her location.

She quickly moved towards the counter, slipping off her backpack and gently placing her scythe on the ground next to it. In her hand, she still held her knife, poised to kill, her thumb on the end and the blade pointing away from her, like she learned in training.

Once she deemed that no other people were coming, she rushed towards the canned food, grabbing as many as she could hold, as well as clear, plastic bottles of water and placing them in her bag before moving forward again, this time to the Granola Bars.

She grabbed box after box, stacking them up so that they would be easier to transport, when she heard the footsteps.

Maka froze once again at the sound of the bell ringing against the door. She shifted her weight, ready to spring and attack. To kill.

She lifted her arm up, the blade pointed outwards as she watched the most definitely female legs walk around the small store, mercifully staying away from her backpack.

The stranger crouched down in front of the the shelf holding the water and grabbed a bottle. Maka could barely hear the sound of the seal cracking over the roaring in her ears, pounding in her skull.

As the girl took a long drink Maka sprung, hurling herself at the girl.

She paused half way.

"Tsugumi?!" Maka asked, her voice relieved as she sank to her knees. The knife clattered from her grip to rest by her foot. "Oh thank god."

Tsugumi looked terrified. Her face pale and her knuckles clenched tight around the water bottle, some drops splattering onto her pants.

"Maka?" She asked her voice trembling.

Maka immediately softened, she reached out to Tsugumi and rested her hand on the younger girls shoulder. "It's ok," Maka said comfortingly. "It's ok."

* * *

><p>Eruka ran through the halls of the school once again, the memory of the snake spurring her forward and keeping her inside. She wanted to get as far away from the horrible boy she threw the bomb at as possible. He wasn't dead, Eruka would have heard the cannon go off, but it hadn't yet.<p>

And so, she ran. She ran deeper into the school, ignoring the doors and lockers blurring past her, the froglike-bombs now in her pocket, the suitcase abandoned on the storage closet.

As she ran farther, she heard a voice calling out not far away from her in the tunnel ahead. She slowed her steps and slide to rest against the nearest wall. When she stopped moving the voice at the end of the hall called out yet again. She couldn't be imagining it now.

As she crept forward down the dark hallway once again, the flickering overhead light only guiding the way for a few seconds per minute. At the end of the hall, she found him.

The large boy, who if she remembered from training was not to smart.

"Can you get me out of here?" He asked.

Eureka was unsure, what if this was all a trap? What if his allies would come jumping out at anytime to finish her?

She thought of the snake that had pushed her here. "Ok, but in return, you work for me now."

He nodded eagerly and pointed through the bars of his cage towards the hook on the wall with the key hanging on it.

Eruka reached for it, her hand closing around the black metal, engraved with a skull shape. She slide the key in the lock.

It opened.

"What's your name?" She asked the young man her voice echoing down the empty hallways.

He paused for a moment, looking pained. "I don't remember," he replied, his face falling. "They hit my head when they put me in here." He paused again. "You can call me Free, now."

"Well, Free, we should get going. Do you know how to get out of here?" Eruka asked, noticing the bloody wound on the back of his head.

"No," he replied, his eyes cast down.

* * *

><p>"Run!" Maka screeched, tugging on Tsugumi's arm, pulling her along the street, the smell of fresh blood filling her senses.<p>

She could feel Tsugumi's hand shaking in her grasp. She tugged her along faster and faster. They needed to get somewhere safe, they had to.

In a rush, Tsugumi tripped on the uneven cobblestone ground and tumbled to her knees. The ground was jagged and unkind, digging in and tearing at her skin. The blood ran down her calves. Maka quickly pulled her back to her feet.

Maka's legs ached and she had no doubt that Tsugumi's did too. She could feel her slowing down behind her.

They would have to hide.

Maka lead them into an alleyway and tried the door. It opened, thank God.

The room on the other side was small and had a staircase in one corner. Maka hesitated for only a moment before pulling the door closed behind her and Tsugumi, sliding a large chair against it, jamming the door knob.

She then lead Tsugumi up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms, sealing the door over with a large chair.

Tsugumi was crying. She had probably been crying the entire time, but Maka had just been too panicked to notice it.

"Shh, Tsugumi, we will be ok," she said, smoothing her hair and wrapping her arms around her.

She shouldn't make promises she couldn't keep.

Maka stroked Tsugumi's back as she shook and cried in her arms. the girl's tears were soaking through Maka's shirt but she held her anyway.

"It will be ok," she repeated again and again as the pounding on the door downstairs increased.

It became louder and more frequent as the sound of fracturing wood filled the building. Maka couldn't help it when her heartbeat increased. She was afraid. Afraid of death. Afraid of failure. This was not ok. _They were not going to be ok._

She held Tsugumi tighter as she tried to muffle her sobs in Maka's shirt. She was cold, but not from the climate. The hot desert sun was beating through the window. That didn't help with the chills going down her spine.

Maka could feel Tsugumi shaking in her arms, and she felt like shaking too, but she wouldn't, she couldn't.

She could hear the shout of triumph from downstairs as the door broke free. Maka tightened her grip again.

She could hear the sadistic laughter of the man and his pounding footsteps on the stairs, the dull thumping of his steps promising pain. He was coming. They should have ran while they could. Maka had already checked out the window, there was no escape that way.

The pounding on the door to the bedroom had started. He had found them. She could see the blade of his knife as it arched into the wood of the door, sending scraps in all directions. Maka shifted Tsugumi away from the door, so that she was more behind her.

There was a section large enough that she could see his face now and quickly, very quickly, he reached through the gap in the door and unlock it, unjamming the chair as he did.

Then he was in the room. Maka struggled to stand up in the time that he took to shorten the distance between them.

Maka's eyes widened, he wouldn't. His arm reached up, the knife grasped in his hand.

As he brought it down, Maka tried to turn Tsugumi away from him to block her from the blade, but the bastard pulled her out of the way, slamming her hard against the wall. The knife slid into Tsugumi's chest all the same. She could feel when her choked sobs turned into a sudden gasp, which faded into nothing. She went limp in Maka's arms.

Bang.

The cannon went off, sounding in her ears and echoing around the room.

No. No. NONONONO.

No, Tsugumi couldn't be dead. She was still alive, she had to be. Maka glanced down at her, Tsugumi's face pale and her eyes blank. Lifeless.

No.

Then suddenly her body was gone, having been grabbed by Giriko and thrown. She heard a sickening thud from across the room but couldn't see were Tsugumi had landed because her vision was filled with red as the man stood in front of her.

He leered down at her. "Well, ain't you a cutie. Kinda flat but still, you're hot enough. M'name is Giriko."

He pulled Maka up by gripping her shoulder, his grasp like a vice. He put his face so close to hers that she could smell his breath. It smelled horrible, not a hint of the Capitol's minty toothpaste that all the tributes had been given still lingering.

"I'm gonna make you scream," he said, his breath slithering across her ear.

Maka shuddered and kicked at him. She wanted this vile murderer away from here.

""hit me with your best shot babe, i like my girls with a bit of fight in 'em," he said mildly, forcing her against the wall, away from her scythe. He put his hand far, far too high up on her leg than Maka was ok with; she would prefer that he didn't touch her at all, but this was crossing _too _many lines. Bile rose in her throat.

She struggled more, her blood pounding in her ears and her heart fluttering hopelessly in her chest. She jerked her body forward and back, side to side, every which way to escape his foul touch. Her eyes burned.

"Hey," he spat. "C'mon you little whore, that all you got?"

He reached his hand down and brought it across her face, hitting her and sending her falling to her butt. Her head snapped to the side, her cheek smarting. She could smell the sharp smell of iron as her head spun and the loud crack echoed in her dazed mind. He paused,before walking over to where she sat dazed and frozen on the floor to pull her up by her pigtails. This was her chance.

She continued struggling as she slowly, carefully reached her hand down, into her pocket and pulled out her knife.

She hoped that it was sharp enough that this wouldn't hurt too much.

In one motion, before Giriko could react, she shot her arm out and cut the hair from her pigtails, just above where he gripped them, leaving her hair sticking out at odd angles.

It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, but she couldn't ponder that now, she had to get her scythe.

She ran towards and grabbed it with her left hand before transferring it over to her right. Her grip was firm.

"You bitchy, fuckin' whore," Giriko growled out, his teeth gnashing like the blades of a chainsaw.

Maka moved to put her scythe in a battle position, mindful of the ceiling tiles over her head and the floor beneath her feet. There was no room for her to fight effectively here, she barely had space to swing her scythe. But she wanted to kill him, she realized with a startling clarity, her heart pounding in her throat and her hands slick with sweat.

She wanted to, but she couldn't. She was no match for him in physical strength. He had a small, agile weapon and she had a large, heavy one.

She would have to escape for now. He was blocking the door and her only other option was the window. She was going to have to jump.

It was going to hurt like hell, but it was that, or get killed.

She feinted towards the door and charged towards the window, jumping- bringing her legs up and kicking out the glass as she fell. She threw her scythe to the ground as she fell, and it hit the cobblestone below her with a clatter.

Time seemed to slow as she fell through the air, she could hear Giriko's angry yell from above her and then the ground was right in front of her.

She hit the ground hard and pain blossomed from her ankles. She rolled at the last second, taking some of the momentum away from the downward motion, but it was too late, her ankles were sprained for sure.

She had to run though, no matter how much it hurt. She wanted to fight him still, she probably would have, if she hadn't hurt herself, but at the moment, she was too beat up to do much if anything.

She had to run.

* * *

><p>Maka ran and ran; she tumbled over the uneven cobblestone roads, tripping and skinning her knees. Her palms stung from her fall, but she picked up her scythe and continued on once more.<p>

She ran for miles, and dimly in the back of her mind thought if she ever made it out of this hell-hole, she would be the best runner in her District.

When she was too tired to continue, she stopped to rest against a cardboard box in an alleyway and cried. She cried until her head hurt and then some, she cried without caring how gross she must look to the members of the Capitol.

* * *

><p>That night, after the anthem played, Tsugumi's face was displayed on the nights sky. It soon disappeared, replaced with the waning moon.<p>

The next morning, Maka woke up suddenly, not noticing the footsteps that were coming closer. Her head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton. She reached into her backpack, grateful that she had thought to pack a water bottle. The water made her feel more awake and more aware of where she had stopped, in an alleyway where anyone could have found her. Maka sighed, relieved that she had gotten away and for the first time glanced across the alley towards the entrance of the street. There was a boy standing across from her near the street. His eyes were on her and his hands raised.

"Easy Maka," Soul Evans said from across the alleyway when she stiffened, preparing to run, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Maka stared, analyzing him and searching for the deceit in his tone, almost deafened by her racing heartbeat. "What are you doing here?" She asked lowly, trying to calculate the best way to get to her feet and flee without further injuring her ankle- she certainly couldn't fight in this shape.

"I saw you asleep in the alleyway. Thought I should stay with you. Keep watch or somethin'."

Maka was horrified. Had she been that obvious? She shook her head defiantly, "I don't need your protection."

"It's no big deal," Soul shrugged. "It's statistically proven that tributes in groups last longer- more eyes and stuff."

Maka couldn't help the smile, despite her still slightly unfavourable situation. She felt like she should trust him. She wouldn't though, not yet.

There was something in his eyes though, something soft, something trustworthy. She didn't know how she felt about that yet. She could try to be allies with him for now. She could always leave if she had to. Death, she better be right about this.

"That's true. So, Soul, do you want to be my ally?" Her voice shook when she remembered Tsugumi, and how she hadn't lasted longer in a group.

Soul looked into her eyes, "Before I agree to anything, I need to show you something- follow me."

With that, Soul held out his hand and helped her up before they walked, Maka hobbling and him offering to help (she said no, instead helping herself balance on her scythe), down the alley, navigating down the twists and turns with ease.

They reached their destination soon enough. It was a small café with worn red leather booths and a bar. In the far corner from the door, there stood a magnificent, black grand piano. Soul walked towards it and lifted the fall board, resting his hands in the black and white keys. "Feel free to run whenever," he said without looking up as he smashed his hands down, pressing the keys into a dark rhythm. It shook her very soul and stirred something deep inside her.

It was beautifully delicate but brutally violent, it spoke of the past and the present and a tiny glimmer of hope for the future. Maka didn't understand, but she loved it.

When his hands stilled, the last note ringing throughout the room, she applauded. He turned to her, expectantly, she held out her hand.

He took it and they shook.

They were partners now.

* * *

><p>After they agreed to be partners, Maka and Soul started out to find a place to stay- as Soul put it, there was no way in hell that they were staying in an alley again. They had to leave the cafe quickly, the playing and the applause could and would draw the attention of tributes from all over the city.<p>

Their search for the perfect apartment took them almost all day. As it turned out, Soul was quite picky. The room had to be over three floors up, had to have one door, no fire escape, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. It had to have at least one other exit through.

It took forever to find the perfect room, but eventually Soul found it. It was up high, but not too high, and fire escape free. When Soul moved to pull a limping Maka up the stairs towards the fifth floor, she practically hissed at him and told him to get away from looked hurt, and Maka briefly regretted her harshness, but then reminded herself that her reaction was perfectly sane given the situation.

Her scythe was tucked under her shoulder, occasionally banging against the colourful walls. He grinned at her; he was going to be a great partner.

The apartment at the end of the hall on floor five was perfect. Maka had not been surprised when she had tried to open the door only to find that it was locked. Soul stopped her and told her to wait a moment.

He bent down, opened his much smaller backpack and pulled out a tool kit.

"Where did you get that?" Maka asked.

"My sponsors sent it to me the first night. It has all sorts of stuff in it," he replied shrugging. "It's really useful."

Maka only nodded, allowing him to work in silence as he picked the lock. Moments later, the door clicked and swung open, revealing their new home. The pair quietly entered the room, looking around for anything hazardous.

When they found nothing, Soul moved on to the other rooms. It had two bedrooms, just like Soul wanted, and a bathroom. The only problem he had seen with it was the balcony, but Maka had been so excited when she saw it, he couldn't ask for them to find another place.

Maka smiled at him and moved over to the cupboards, opening them one by one. They were all packed full with food. Canned food, granola bars, and other things that Maka had never seen before. She picked up something colourful that _looked_ like liquid, but when Maka shook the container it just seemed solid (she may have vowed at that moment that she was never going to eat that). She quickly put the strange thing back, looking disgusted.

Maka turned to Soul and he quickly wiped the dopey, domestic look off his face, shaping it into his typical mask of indifference. Her smile was radiant as the sun. "We have food in the cupboards!" She exclaimed excitedly, "Can we please stay here?"

Soul grinned, "Yes."

Later that night, after they had spent a good forty five minutes spent barricading the door with a large dresser that had sat next to the entry and a heavy chair in front of that. It would be easy to move from this side, but the other side would be significantly harder to do and would make quite a lot of noise. They sat together on the couch; the sun was setting, but its wasn't like they could see it. They had covered all the windows with curtains. The few candles Maka had found in the kitchen were their only source of light.

Soul was teaching Maka how to play chess.

"It's strange. I haven't heard a cannon go off all day," Soul commented idly.

Maka nodded before moving her pawn two squares from its starting position.

When the anthem started to play, neither teen got off the couch.

* * *

><p>"I don't know how to deal with snakes," a shaky voice called out in panic in the street.<p>

Medusa smirked down at the television. Stein was out at an interview. She might as well have a little bit of fun.

She grinned as the child screamed, swinging their broadsword that looked all too big and heavy for their slender body to handle. They managed to kill one snake, but as it died, another two appeared.

Soon the child was covered in snakes, their venom flooding into the child's blood.

The reaction turned it black as it dripped down their lacerated limbs and pooled on the ground.

Soon the screams cut out. Medusa sighed, and gestured to one of the women working beside her. "Ready the canon."

It was then that the giggles were heard from within the pile of snakes.

Medusa's sadistic smile returned full force.

* * *

><p>Stein and Medusa sat on the plush chairs of Blair's talk show.<p>

"So, what makes _your_ hunger games different than all the other games before it?" Blair asked, her chin propped against her hand as she tilted her head, her curled hair bouncing.

"Well," Medusa started, "to make ours is distinctly different from the others, we added Tracker Jacker venom."

"What?" Blair asked, confused she hadn't seen any icky bugs so far.

Stein cut in to answer, "We took the venom out of the tracker jackers and mixed it with the air in the arena. It's not _too_ harmful if its only breathed in, but if it gets in contact with the blood through a scrape or cut, it can create quite the effect."

Blair looked surprised for a second before she replied, "Well, I'm sure it'll be very interesting to see these Games play out!"

* * *

><p>The next day, Maka woke up in her new room, the baggy yellow and green striped pyjamas she had found on the dresser hanging off her shoulder. Maka quickly redressed into the clothing Liz made her and moved to the kitchen.<p>

Maka found some oatmeal mix in the cupboard next to the stove and grabbed the water purifier from her bag, sticking it on the tap. She found the stainless steel pots and pans in one of the bottom drawers and filled the pot with water. She placed it on one of the stoves before staring at it, puzzled. How did it work? She had heard about electric stoves from the Capitol, but she had never seen one before- they had wood burning stoves at home, and Maka didn't have any clue how to use it.

This was how Soul found her. He walked into the kitchen wearing only pyjama pants, his chest bare (and really, really smooth looking).

Maka quickly pulled her eyes up to his face, blushing slightly. "How do I turn on the stove?" Maka asked, shyly, hoping Soul would attribute her flushed cheeks to her question and not the fact she had been staring at his abdominal muscles.

Soul grinned and moved behind her, turning the dial on the back of the stove to the highest setting it would go after seeing the oats lining the bottom of the pot.

Then, Soul explained to her how the stove and oven worked in great detail.

"How do you know all that?" Maka asked, in awe of his knowledge.

Soul shrugged before replying, "I'm from District Three. We know all about technology."

Maka nodded and waited for the oatmeal to cook as he went and got dressed.

After they ate, Maka and Soul decided to survey the area. Soul brought some paper and a pencil and was creating a map of their immediate surroundings. Meanwhile, Maka was keeping an eye out for traces of other tributes.

They had been chatting amicably all the way to Italy Ave. Maka had frozen at the crossroads after hearing the cannon before She took off towards the grand cathedral.

Maka paused nervously, then pushed open the door of the cathedral. In the centre of the church, there lay a bloody body, standing over the body was a person. Their hair was a short, a matted mess of pink, the remnants of the garish red dye from opening ceremonies still clinging to the strands. They stood scarily still, right arm clutching at the left, in which they held a large, heavy broadsword, still slick with the blood of the child on the ground. Their black clothes were torn and ruined, but their skin was perfectly smooth and unblemished.

Soul was right at Maka's heels, following her into the church, the knife Maka had lent him held out so naturally, it seemed like an extension of his arm. His eyes widened in shock and fear as the teenager standing over the body lunged at Maka.

"Should I kill her?" the murderer mused.

"I think you should." The teen replied to themself.

"I don't know how to deal with cute girls," they said again. "I say we kill her and then him."

It was then that Maka charged. Her scythe arching towards the teen. But they jumped back at the last minute.

"Kill them, Chrona," they said in a harsh voice.

"O-ok," they replied, swinging their sword at Maka.

Soul's breath caught in his throat as Maka got away just in time, the blade only kissing her face her adrenaline was pounding in her entire system, nullifying her pain.

She responded with an attack of her own, swinging her scythe at the murderer's head and hitting the teen across the neck, her blade digging into their skin. At first she was struck with sickening relief, thinking that she had succeeded in protecting herself and Soul, but her relief turned to dread immediately as she came to the realization that her blade had sunk no further than the thick, dark vein in her opponent's neck

"Didn't you know?" They asked, sounding slightly choked but their eyes were still hauntingly dark and unfocused, "My blood is black."

Maka gasped and pulled away, jumping back landing painfully on her hurt ankle. Her scythe was held in front of her defensively before she spun it around expertly, blocking her opponent's attacks. Soul jumped out and struck when he thought he saw an opening.

He hit the person's shoulder with his knife and they hit him across the neck in return. He had tried to block, but they had too much power. Crona's blade slipped forward and broke the skin on Soul's throat. Luckily, the blade missed the artery, and it was only a scratch.

He got away in time to dodge the next hit.

That was when Maka attacked, she swung her scythe hard at Crona's head once more.

But Crona was ready, kicking Maka hard in the stomach and Soul heard her ribs crack.

She doubled over, clutching her ribs and spitting up blood. Crona readied for the kill. They raised their sword high and paused before swinging it down.

Soul saw his chance, charging forward and throwing himself in front of her, arms spread wide. He covered her body as the blade cut into his chest.

"R-run, you idiot," he gasped out as blood bloomed from his chest and his eyes lost their focus.

* * *

><p>Stein watched as Spirit's daughter bent over the prone body of the boy, one of Marie's tributes if he was correct. He sighed. He should probably save them or he would never hear the end of it. Not just from Spirit and Marie but also from President Death. They and their sewn together partnership was the talk of the Capitol and if they didn't last for a while yet, well. Stein's life might be on the line.<p>

He waited patiently until Medusa's precious experiments had stepped back far enough, before dropping the chandelier.

"Ready a cannon," he said, not really thinking they would need it just yet.

* * *

><p>When the chandelier had fallen on top of Chrona, they had been pinned against the hard stone floor by several thousand pounds of wrought iron.<p>

When the chandelier crashed into their opponent, she looked up from Soul's body to what was left beneath the chandelier. Chrona's body was trapped inder the heavy wrought iron chandeleir She returned her attention to the body under her bloodied arms. Soul's eyes were closed and his body hardly moved, only to take shallow breaths.

She gathered him into her arms anyway, wrapping his wound the best she could with his jacket before carrying him towards their apartment.

She had to stop many, many times to try to tighten the makeshift bandage she had created and to let her throbbing ankle rest. His weight was heavy across her shoulders as she carried him up the stairs, regretting the fact that they had picked a fifth floor apartment- it had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

When she finally reached the top of the stairs, she thanked god that she was in good shape and moved to unlock the door with the key she had found inside earlier that day.

Once inside, she rushed Soul to the table and spread him out on top of it. His chest was bleeding sluggishly, the pressure of the bandgae putting pressure on the wound, which was better than nothing.

Maka didn't know what to do. Soul was probably going to die and it was all her fault.

Just like Tsugumi.

Maka was just about to run to the other room to grab some clothing to use as bandages when something hit the window. Maka's heart froze in her throat. Why couldn't she catch a break?

When she peeked out of the glass door of the patio, she noticed a small silvery parachute, not another tribute ready to kill them.

Maka almost cried, she was so happy. The parachute carried the medical supplies she needed to patch up Soul. Maka gently picked up Soul's knife that she had shoved into her pocket in a panic when they left the church. She couldn't pull his shirt off with Soul just lying there. She slowly, gently lifted up his blood slicked T-shirt and ran the knife along the line that Chrona had cut in his shirt, cutting away the edges and peeling back the extra fabric.

The cut was red and raw, separating his chest in two halves. It looked deep but Maka was sure that if she didn't mess up, he would recover. She grabbed a washcloth from where she had found them earlier that morning under the sink and drenched it in purified water. She dabbed gently at the wound, doing her best to clean it. Oozing wounds would get infected, something she couldn't treat. Once it looked clean enough, Maka opened the parcel. Inside was a tub of ointment and some surgical thread. There was also a note.

'He is in your hands now, I trust you -Marie.'

Maka teared up all over again. "Thank you," she whispered to Marie.

Stitching the wound shut was gruesome. He bled a lot and the feeling of the needle going through flesh was gross. When she finally got the wound closed, she wiped it with a clean cloth again before opening the ointment.

It smelled like anesthetic and mint. It felt gross, thick and slimy on her fingers. She spread it thickly across his chest, feeling the new ridge of a scar it was going to leave.

After she was done healing Soul's wound, she had another problem; he was lying on the kitchen table and she didn't think she could move him without pulling his stitches. She also couldn't leave him in the clothes he was in now. They were caked in blood and gross. His shirt was ruined and his pants could be salvaged if she washed them right now. But how would she get them off him? In every book she had ever read, anytime someone tried to do something like this, the person woke up and freaked out.

Well, she had no choice. She was not touching his underwear though. Never.

She went into his room and grabbed the plaid pyjama pants he had worn last night. She gently eased open his fly and pulled his pants down. She tried to be gentle but quick, touching him as little possible.

She realized once she reached his knees that he was still wearing his boots. She undid the ankle high work boots and slipped his pants off him. Now the hard part. Getting the sleep pants on him. Maka took a deep breath.

After he was all changed, Maka brought a glass of water over and placed it next to the pillow she had brought him along with the blanket.

Maka sighed and put her head on the table.

She woke up a few hours later, at nightfall to the sound of the national anthem. She stepped out into the balcony, and saw the face of the tribute Chrona had killed in the church, before the tribute's face disappeared, leaving this black sky behind. A space that could have been filled with her face and Soul's.

Maka suppressed her tears and walked back inside. She would be strong.

* * *

><p>The next day when Soul woke up, he was surprised mostly surprised because he was still alive. He was also surprised because he was lying on the kitchen table in their apartment. The last thing he remembered was bleeding out in the church and Maka crying, bent over him as he told her to run.<p>

His hand was numb and a dull, and a burning ache was spreading through his chest. His head was stuffed and he really, really wanted a glass of water. His mind was clear though and he wanted to call out to Maka, to see her, to make sure she was ok.

He turned his head in the direction of the bedroom she had claimed for herself, opening his mouth to call out only to promptly shut it again when he realized why his hand was numb. Maka was holding it tightly in hers as she slept next to him, seated in one of their kitchen chairs, her head resting on her arms. He didn't want to wake her. She was breathing deeply and evenly, her face relaxed and her eyes closed.

She sighed and shifted in her sleep as he carefully reached his other arm towards her, brushing his fingers along the side of her face before wincing and allowing his hand to fall. It rested across what he dimly recognized as his own torso, stitched up and diagonally covered in a large scar.

Wasn't he bleeding to death just a few days ago? How long had he been out of it? Maka sighed and shifted next to him once more and his eyes returned to her face just in time to see her slowly open those pretty, vibrant, green eyes. She sat up, gently letting go of his hand, a light, pink blush gracing her face. She turned even brighter red when she noticed that he was looking at her intently, his eyes calm and filled with an emotion that she couldn't quite place.

Soul knew, if it came down to it, he would do this again and again, if the need came forth. He wanted to protect her, he realized, shocked. They had met less than a week ago, in a tournament where they should be trying to kill each other. But instead they were falling asleep next to each other in their apartment after he had almost died to save her.

Soul sighed. His entire life, he had wanted an ally, a friend, someone to care for and have them care for him in turn. Now he had one.

One that he met in a game that was to cause one, if not both of their deaths.

Well, he would sure as hell enjoy it while it lasted.

He still couldn't figure out why he thought it was a good idea to jump in front of this girl, to try and protect her. He didn't have a clue and it scared him, his thoughts blurring in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more he didn't care. He had already done it. Why did it matter what his reasons were?

As he pushed onto his elbows to sit up, the wound on his chest burned as the stitches began to pull. Maka pressed down on his shoulders to make him lay back of how much his head was spinning as his vision filled with black, static-y pixels, he reached for the glass of water that was beside the pillow he had been resting on.

"Be careful." Maka warned, "I don't know if you can handle a lot of water just yet."

Soul didn't listen to her, grabbing the cool glass and drinking all the water in one long sip. His head spun again and he gracelessly flopped back down and rolled over, facing away from Maka as he threw up. He heaved violently, his chest aching and his head spinning even more.

He threw up until he had nothing left in his stomach and had stopped coughing up blood. His shoulders shook and Maka's hand on his back continued its soothing circles on his skin. Her voice was soft as she told him it was ok.

It was never going to be ok.

Soul rolled over again, resting on his back. He sighed heavily. He wanted to sleep, but he could feel Maka shaking his arm insistently. He tried to shrug her off but he was unsuccessful, her hand closing lightly around his shoulder, careful of his scar. She gently propped him up, so that he was sitting, taking his hand and helping him stand up.

When he was on his feet, his head spun again and his stomach lurched. He swayed slightly as the blood rushed from his head to his toes. He would have stumbled and fallen, if it were not for Maka slipping under his arm and helping him stay standing as he leaned against her. She was small and skinny but she was strong, taking half of his weight with ease as she guided him to his bedroom.

She gently lowered him to rest on his bed, pulling the sheets up over his bare torso carefully- so as to not to agitate his scar. She left the room and he missed her warm, comforting presence immediately. She returned seconds later, however, with a wet wash cloth and dabbed at his face, her smooth hands rubbing against the stubble on his jaw as she cleaned the area around his mouth like he was a child. He didn't care to be treated as a baby who could do nothing, but at this point he was too weak to complain.

His eyes slipped shut yet again as he heard her footsteps retreating then returning as a cool cloth was placed against his head.

* * *

><p>Maka walked out of Soul's room after placing the cloth on his head, the sound of her steps muffled by her socks. She walked towards the kitchen to where Soul had been sick. She had warned him that he shouldn't drink it all at once, but he hadn't listened, the stubborn fool. Instead, he had thrown up all over the kitchen floor. It wasn't that big of a mess, though; the fact that they had been eating little in the arena was a big problem, Maka realized. She would have to make sure he ate properly over the next few days- or however long they lasted.<p>

That boy had thrown himself in front of her, to protect her from the blow that should have killed her. She wasn't going to let him die. Not yet, she owed him too much.

Maka sighed, filled the bucket she had found under the sink with soapy water, and started to wash the floor.

The blood mixed within the vomit was dark, almost black.

Maka shuddered.

* * *

><p>Stein stared at the screen showing Spirit's daughter. She had been tending to Marie's tribute all day while he slept, changing the cloth on his forehead, adjusting his blankets and so on. Spirit would be having a fit, Stein thought, remembering how he had always gushed over his daughter. He was so, so protective of her. Stein could understand his worry; after he lost his wife to the Capitol- well, he couldn't blame him.<p>

Medusa scoffed next to him. "No one died today, I say we kill off those two. One of them is almost dead anyway."

"I don't think we should," Stein disagreed. "The viewers love them and how cute they are together." Condescension and disdain was very evident in his voice. "We need to keep them alive for at least a while more," he added.

Medusa sighed. "Fine, I suppose they can live a while longer. I want to see how the boy is influenced by the black blood anyway." She relaxed into the soft cushion of her chair, resting her head against the back as she drummed her fingers on the armrest. "We need to get rid of someone soon, though," she said.

Stein agreed. The Lord of Death would not be happy if they didn't.

* * *

><p>There were no names in the sky that night.<p> 


	3. Let Us Burn

Kim glanced behind her at the group of people she had become allies with. One of the boys who had found ridiculous glasses in a store somewhere and had taken to wearing them everywhere. The lenses swirled and spiralled as he turned his head to meet her gaze. She reached up to push her still woefully pink short hair behind her ear as he smiled brightly at her. His hair was still stlyed into lightning bolts, left over from his opening ceremonies attire, same as hers.

The other boy had apparently raided the same store, only his glasses were sunglasses with a thin line through the centre of the lenses. He looked much less absurd.

Kim sighed and continued walking down the path towards the place they had chosen to stay.

Earlier, she fell and hit her head when they were running away from snakes in the alleyway this morning. Ever since, her head had been bothering her. As they continued to walk, her vision would blur for a few moments. She hadn't told her allies though. She didn't want them to see her as weak. Her head was truely pounding and her vision would occasionally fade to black before returning.

She gently brushed her hands up her scraped arms. The cuts had almost stopped bleeding now. Kim would have asked Jackeline - her only female ally - for some of the healing cream that she had gotten (a gift from a sponsor) but she didn't want to owe her.

Only the one near her wrist was still sluggishly bleeding, the dark, dark red liquid dripping out as she walked down the deep, purple cobblestone. The blood dropped down to fall on the ground, creating a trail behind her.

They were almost at the school now, Kim realized blearily. Her head was spinning, her mind felt as though it was being pushed against sharp shards of glass. Kim tried to keep her eyes open, as the back entrance of the school loomed before them. She dimly noticed that night had fallen, her vision blurring and fading in and out.

The moon was giggling evilly in the sky. She joined in, her laugh echoing around the empty streets. The boy with the sunglasses hissed at her to shut up.

* * *

><p>The closer they got to the centre school, the more Kim's head felt like it was being split open. Her vision was blurry and distorted, only allowing her to see colours and vague shapes.<p>

It was a total surprise when the array of purple stone in front of her changed to white circles and skin. A hand reached out to touch her shoulder and she snapped, reaching into her pocket to grab the small knife she kept there and drove it into a soft stomach.

Her vision snapped back to normal for a moment, just in time to see Ox's startled face before becoming black around the edges once more, tinted with red.

Dimly, faintly she registered a male voice crying out in anguish, his cry echoing down the halls, calling the other two who had gotten about fifty feet away to turn in time to see her pulling the bloody knife out. She could see clearly again, now. Perfect.

His face was pale as he collapsed on the ground, clutching his abdomen. His stupid glasses were cracked and resting on the ground a few feet away. Blood dripped out of his mouth as she watched-

Boom. The cannon went off and his eyes were blank.

He was dead.

Kim stood shocked, her green eyes wide as she stared. He was dead. He was dead, and it was her fault.

Why did this make her feel so- so alive?

She was pulled from her thoughts at the screeching from down the hall. She barely had enough time to dodge her companion's spear, and Kim was giggling again, her arms moving in their own accord. She wanted to stop this. Stop moving, stop fighting, just to stop. But she couldn't control herself.

It felt great.

Kim could hear the sound of Jackeline running towards them and calling for them to stop. But she kept on attacking, slicing his arms and sides with her knife. His red blood dripped down on to the floor, the droplets mixing with her black blood.

He pulled back the arm holding his spear and thrusted it forward, sending it through her stomach. He pulled it out and Kim fell to her knees, her arms supporting her. The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep was the arc of fire going straight for Harver's head.

* * *

><p>Jacqueline stared at the body that was Kim, her ally, her friend and possibly- more. They had meet in training and had become fast friends. She was laying on the ground, her limbs splayed and blood pooling around her.<p>

She only felt rage and regret. If only she had stepped into the fight before, and taken the blow instead, if only she had noticed something was wrong in the first place... Her eyes stung and her head spun as she turned her burning gaze towards the one who had killed her friend.

Harver. She grabbed the lantern they had been using to light their way when it got dark and hurled some of the fuel it at his head before tossing a match at him. He managed to dodge the attack that time, dealing his own with his lightning quick movement of his spear, he twisted the strangely shaped spear while it was imbedded in her chest, and sharp pain arched through her body.

Jacqueline fell to the ground beside Kim's body. Her eyesight was fading, and she didn't think she was going to last long; she could feel her life force flickering out.

She heaved herself upright in a last display of effort, fumbling with the lantern as she spat blood from her mouth. She noticed that it was black.

Jacqueline threw the lantern. Her mind went blank and her eyes closed. She could hear the dull thump of the lantern connecting with someone and the fwoosh of that person going up in flames.

Jacqueline closed her eyes for the finale time. She felt warm, so warm and comfortable, like she was back home, laying next to the fireplace with her family. Her mom reading stories, her grandma knitting. She sighed peacefully.

A few seconds later, two cannons went off.

* * *

><p>Maka jumped as the first cannon went off. She had been trying to make dinner from the food she had found in the cupboards. Food she would to have loved to have back home for the families in her District, more food than they could ever eat.<p>

Speaking of eating, she had convinced Soul to eat something a bit earlier in the day, but he had been able to eat only a little bit before he stopped, claiming he was full. Maka didn't know what had happened with the cannon, but it had startled her so much that she had dropped the package of pasta she'd been holding on the floor.

Not many of the pieces of pasta had broken though, thankfully, so she had opened the bag and poured them in the boiling water. She had just moved over to the bookshelf when she heard the second one. It was another minute before she heard two more, one after the other.

Soul had called out to her at this point; he had probably slept through the first two, but the other two had surely woken him. She had lowered the heat on the stove and moved towards his room, poking her head into his room to see what he needed and she saw the fear in his eyes. He was pale and shaky.

"Maka?" He called out, "Are you ok?"

Maka opened the door wider, and stepped inside. She could see him more clearly now, the light from the moon shining through the window, creating highlights and shadows along his face.

She sighed, her voice soft "I'm fine, Soul. Don't worry, ok?"

He shook his head, "I'm always gonna worry," he replied, his knuckles white as he clutched at the bed sheets. Maka noticed how tight his grip was on the soft cloth and reached out, untangling his hands from their death grip and taking them in her own. He squeezed her hands, but not nearly as hard as he had held the blankets. His palms were soft and smooth, a contrast to her own calloused and rough ones. He gently pulled her closer to him so that she was beside him, leaning against the headboard, and rested his head on her shoulder.

She stiffened for a moment before relaxing and resting her head on top of his. She felt warm, safe, and fell asleep easily.

* * *

><p>Soul breathed in and out evenly as he rested on Maka's shoulder. Her arms were limp at her sides, and the grip she had on his fingers loosened. When he realized she was asleep, he gently maneuvered her to lay down beside him and pulled the covers over her. She made a contented hum as he did it and unconsciously snuggled closer to him. He lay down to rest beside her, his arms wrapping around her waist as they lay tangled together.<p>

They woke up an hour later to the sound of the national anthem and the sight of Kim, Jacqueline, Harvar and Ox's faces in the sky.

Soul made a sleepy noise as Maka lay down beside him once more and snuggled up against his chest, falling back asleep. Her breath feathered against his collarbone and the new scar that separated the two halves of his chest. He pulled her to him protectively. He wouldn't let her go, wouldn't let her die like the other tributes

He didn't know what he was doing. Why would he fall in love with this girl? He had only meet her for the first time a week ago in an elevator.

One of them was going to die. That's how these games worked.

Soul made a promise to himself then- and to her,not that she knew it. When Maka was sleeping, she looked younger, less troubled. He promised himself he would get Maka to win. He had to,

He would swear on his life.

How did he fall so deeply in love with her? Soul sighed and turned to look at the moon; it giggled quietly in the distance and he sharply gasped, hurting his chest and waking Maka.

"What's wrong, Soul?" She asked, worried.

"The moon," he answered, "it's laughing."

Maka glanced over at the moon, then back at him. "No, it's not," she replied, laying back down. "Just go back to sleep Soul."

He turned his head away from the moon, it's lips parted in a giggle to look at Maka's face once more. She reached her hand up and cupped his cheek before dropping her hand to his chest to draw patterns on his skin.

Over time, the movement of her hand slowed to a stop, and just as she was almost asleep she felt the cool press of lips against her forehead. Maka smiled lightly and wrapped her arms around him tighter.

She fell asleep and dreamed of Soul and death.

* * *

><p>Then next morning, Maka woke up comfortable and warm, facing Soul and pressed against his side. As she blearily opened her eyes, she noticed his were still closed and that he had a small string of drool coming from his mouth. He looked so peaceful that she didn't dare wake him. Instead she rested against him, enjoying the feeling if his arms around her waist. A few minutes later, he woke up as well, but still they didn't move, just lay together a while longer.<p>

* * *

><p>That day was spent lazing around. Maka was wary though. They had been left alone far too long. Something big had to happen soon.<p>

Soul, however seemed content to relax and rest. He sat on the couch, huddled under a blanket as thunder rolled in the background. When Maka came to sit beside him, he lifted his soft blanket and held out one if the sides for her to crawl under. She did as he silently asked. She could feel the soft fabric of his T-shirt as she was pulled to rest against him, his arm resting around her shoulders. Their knees knocked against each other when she shifted, leaning her head against his shoulder.

They talked about little things, their lives back home, their friends and family. She learned more about Soul in the one afternoon they spent together than she ever thought she would know. There was one subject that she really wished that she knew more about though.

"Soul?" She questioned softly, her voice never raising as she traced patterns on his tshirt. How was it they were so comfortable with each other? They hadn't know each other very long at all and here she was, sprawled across his chest as they told each other stories.

"Will you play piano for me again?" She asked softly, feeling quite nervous yet strangely giddy.

"No," he replied flatly.

"What? Why?" Maka asked, hurt. "You said you would play for Blair's party after you won, why won't you play for me?"

"Because I hate playing for people. I never planned on winning," he said softly, against her hair.

She lifted her head up and looked into his eyes, shocked. The lightning that flashed outside lighting up the side of her face. "You weren't ever going to try to win?" She gasped, shocked.

He shrugged in reply. "I never really wanted to win, there is no reason for me to go back home if I have to kill someone else to do it."

Maka looked at him, tears in her eyes, "I want you to live," she said softly.

He looked deep into her eyes, "I want you to live," he said back to her quietly. They heard a distant boom of thunder, but that didn't distract them from doing what happened next.

He lowered his head, slowly. Glancing at her lips quickly before looking back into her eyes. Her hand reached up, gently holding onto his neck as he lowered his head even more, his lips a hairsbreadth away from hers when his hands found her waist and rested there gently. He looked into her eyes once more before slipping his shut, hoping she would do the same. He moved to close the last few centimetres between them-

Boom.

The loud echo of the cannon sounded, causing them to pull apart, their eyes wide and their faces flushed.

Maka was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. She had just been relaxing on a soft, comfortable couch, she had almost kissed this boy in front of her and someone had died.

It could have been either of them instead.

She didn't know what to do next, she wanted to hold Soul tightly and kiss him. They were both so, so shaken by the reminder that they weren't safe here.

But this was the Hunger Games. She was wearing her mask and he was wearing his.

They were saved from the awkwardness that had settled around them like the blanket by the sound of the national anthem blaring through the empty streets.

Cautiously they untangled themselves and made their way to the balcony. Soul still had the soft blanket around his shoulders and it trailed behind him like a cape.

Maka looked up at the sky and gasped, collapsing to her knees as she stared. She refused to let tears fall from her eyes as she looked at the sky.

Kilik's face looked down at her.

* * *

><p>Maka gasped softly as Soul reached over, forgetting the awkwardness from earlier and wrapped her into a soft, warm hug, lifting her up and holding her close, comforting her, running his fingers through her soft, golden hair. He held her tightly as her mask crumbled and fell apart.<p>

She fell asleep in his arms and he carefully lifted her to carry her to her bedroom, opening the door while still wrapped tightly in his blanket.

He lowered her to the bed and pulled up the blankets across her chest before whispering goodnight and turning to leave.

"Wait," he heard her call out quietly, "Stay with me."

She didn't have to ask him twice, and he crawled in to lay beside her. He tried to leave a decent amount of space between them, but she rolled over so she was pressed against his chest, her head tucked under his chin.

Their words echoed in each other's head.

I want you to live.

* * *

><p>Kilik dashed through the streets, trying to lose the crazy witch that seemed so intent to catch him like he was an insect caught in her web.<p>

He swerved down another alleyway and came to rest against the wall. He was breathing heavily and his feet ached.

Kilik kept running though, until he arrived at the park he had been staying in. It was well hidden in a dead end street. It had a small swing, a slide and a merry-go-round.

Kilik immediately checked the area then jogged to the lone tree in the centre of the park. He stopped, leaning against it to rest. Maka probably had a safe place to stay and was nice and warm and well feed.

And where was he? Outside, cold and hungry. He hadn't eaten in a day, he was getting weaker. All the stores nearby had been ransacked and some of them burnt down. All the food was gone. Kilik didn't know what to eat.

Well, it wouldn't do him any good to complain about it, Spirit probably wouldn't send him food anyway, he was probably saving it all for Maka.

He was in a bad mood now, and as he climbed up his tree to get to the wide branch he had been staying on, he remembered what this was.

It was only a game to the Capitol, a sick, cruel form of entertainment.

Kilik grabbed the rope out of his backpack, the only useful thing he had grabbed out of the cornucopia. The only weapon he had been able to get was a sharp looking pair of gloves. They weren't even that useful. Kilik sighed as he tightened the knot around his waist before wiggling around, making sure there was no way he could fall out in his sleep.

Suddenly, there was a low rumble in the distance that Kilik immediately recognized as thunder.

The first drops of rain fell, hitting his face and the tree.

Kilik was so sick of this. All the doors to the inside where locked, he was no good at picking locks. He was stuck out here and those bastards had to make it rain.

He had had enough.

"FUCK YOU!" Kilik yelled, raising his middle finger and shaking it at the camera he knew was right in front of him. "YOU FUCKING LAMEASS SHITS. FIRST YOU TAKE ME FROM MY FAMILY TO USE IN FUCKING STUPID GAMES, THEN YOU MAKE IT SO I CAN'T GO INSIDE. NOW I AM FUCKING STARVING AND COLD AND YOU MAKE IT START RAINING. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOUR GAMES. YOU BIGOTED PRICKS." His voice was muted by the heavy rainfall, even to his own ears, but he knew, they had heard him loud and clear.

There was no reply other than a flash of lightning that arched down, towards his tree. Kilik saw it, almost as though it happened in slow motion. The lightning hit him, running several thousands volts worth of electricity through his body, causing him to arch and strain against the rope and the tree. He made a choking noise as the lightning struck and he shook.

After the pain had passed, he rested his head against the tree.

It was then he smelled flames. Looking around in a panic, Kilik noticed that there was a fire rapidly spreading along the previously wet tree. Kilik struggled to lift his hand, trying to untie the rope that bound him to the tree, preventing his escape. Maka wouldn't have been left in a tree to die, but it wasn't her fault.

It wasn't her fault.

"Fuck you, fuck you all," he gasped out, his lungs filling with smoke. His vision swam as he shakily raised his hand, three fingers outstretched, and brought them to his lips before raising them high. He passed out.


	4. Mad World

"We should go outside today," Soul said over breakfast the next morning. "I've been going crazy stuck inside all the time."

Maka looked uncertain. She didn't particularly want to go outdoors, she wanted to stay safe and warm in their apartment. Going out would risk their lives.

Logically speaking, she knew it was best that they leave, even just for a bit. Even if they ran into trouble outside, it would be better than staying inside their safe house and waiting for the Gamekeepers to smoke them out.

"Ok," Maka said, smiling up at him, her mask covering all but her eyes. They showed her worry and her fear. She trusted him not to point it out.

There was a chill outside today, as they walked along the cobblestone streets Maka had reached for Soul's hand and held it.

The morning was close to completely silent, the only sound being that of their footsteps as they walked.

Maka smiled up at Soul as they walked before turning around sharply, her eyes seeking out the noise she had heard behind them. Her grip tightened on her scythe and she spun around, letting go of Soul's hand to hold her weapon defensively in front of her. Soul reached into his pocket and pulled out the sharpened knife, holding it out in front of him threateningly.

The giant snake was slithering towards them.

They ran fast, their hands finding each others again as they stumbled over the uneven stone.

Maka had a tight grip on her scythe. She had considered fighting the snake, but it was no use, the macabrely stitched creature charged at them headlong. There was no opening for attack unless they wanted to get bitten.

Maka pulled Soul down different alleyways and streets, him dutifully following her as she went. They were breathing hard by the time they neared a large building. Maka was unsure about snakes being able to climb the small flight of stairs, so at the very least she would have a door to slam in it's face. She lead Soul up the stairs. It was as though someone had hastily tried to turn the large building into a spider. It had eight long legs stretching off the room and a strange, mask like face.

Maka didn't want to go in there. It was more than likely that there were other tributes living inside.

She pushed the door open anyway though, knowing they had no other options, slipping her scythe through first, then holding it open for Soul as he walked inside, his knife at the ready. He looked strange, Maka realized, his pupils blown wide and his whole body shaking. Not trembling with fear or anticipation, but shaking as though he was cold. Maka reached over and wrapped a small arm around his waist, trying to warm him up.

Soul wasn't cold, but when she touched him the shaking started to fade before disappearing entirely.

Maka suddenly froze in place before taking Soul by the hand once more and pulling him behind the broken red couch that rested close to the wall.

"What's going on?" Soul asked, his voice sounding much too loud over the blood pounding in Maka's ears.

"Someone's coming," she told him quietly. "We need to hide."

Soul tried to open his mouth to protest, but Maka had her hand over his lips, sealing them shut. He shrugged and relaxed a bit, resting against her.

His relaxation lasted only a short period of time. He could hear the footsteps now, they sounded from the hallway on their left, coming towards them.

Soul held his breath as they neared. His arms tensed beside him and he could feel the cold metal of Maka's scythe against him as they did their best to hide it.

"Where are you, you brats?" A malicious voice called out.

Soul could feel Maka stiffen against him. How did this guy know where they were?

Suddenly, the couch in front of them was gone. Instead, I front of them stood a short boy with a comically large nose. His name was Mosquito if Maka remembered correctly.

"There you are you little pests," he sneered, sounding almost gleeful.

The two of them stared at him for a moment, hesitant to attack him. When he pulled out a needle-thin sword though, they knew talking it out wouldn't be an option. Maka charged, swinging her scythe in a large arc, leaving her left side completely open. Mosquito, took advantage of this, swinging his sword straight for her chest. The blade was inches away now, and Maka couldn't do anything to block it, couldn't cancel her attack now and had no other way of protecting herself.

The clang of metal against metal shocked her; Soul had blocked with his knife at the last moment, saving her.

Maka continued her attack, only grazing Mosquito before he jumped back, out of her reach. He was quite agile for his size.

Maka spun her scythe, blocking his next attack with ease as Soul snuck up behind him and with a flash of his blade, he sunk it into Mosquito's side. When he pulled it out, Maka readied for their finale attack. She lined her scythe up with his neck and prepared to swing. She didn't know if she was ready for this.

No, she knew she wasn't ready for this.

She swung anyway.

The blunt side of her weapon connected with his head, knocking him down. Maka waited for the telltale sound of the canon that would indicate that he was dead.

It never came. Maka felt so relieved.

"Come on, Soul," Maka said, "Let's get out of here."

"Not so fast," a female voice stated, "your not going anywhere."

"What?" Soul asked, fear evident in his voice. He wanted, no he needed to get away from here. This woman seemed to radiate madness like an evil sun. It made his head hurt.

"I cannot just let you walk away after you almost killed one of my companions," she said. She rested her closed fan against her face before holding it out towards them. "I will be killing you now," she stated casually, and charged forward.

It was like the woman had eight arms, her attacks coming from all sides as if like she was wrapping the two allies up in a cocoon.

Soul made a strangled noise as one of the sharp edges of her fan- no doubt a gift from her sponsors- cut into his arm.

Maka on the other hand, had her scythe out and was expertly slicing and blocking that witch's attacks.

She spun and dodged, guiding them all in a dance, her feet glossing over the checkered tiles.

Soul shook his head sharply. He was becoming dizzy and his head was spinning, and he knew he couldn't do this much longer. He collapsed to his knees and stayed there. His vision was blurring and changing. He shuddered when he heard Maka yelling his name and heard the spider-women laugh haughtily.

Suddenly he was airborne, flying across the room and crashing against the wall. His head throbbed from where it had hit but everything was dull compared to the burning, aching pain that came from his scar.

It hurt and he wanted to curl up in a ball, scream and never move again. His head swam and his vision went black. The last thing he heard was Maka yelling his name.

* * *

><p>"You know," a silky smooth voice said as Soul struggled to open his eyes. "I think you don't want to go home for other reasons. You are the unwanted child, they don't need you. You my boy, you have no talent! They simply don't need you, they just don't love you, no one ever will." the red thing said, sounding bored.<p>

"You're wrong!" Soul yelled, "Wes loves me, and Maka could someday love me!"

"My boy, my poor innocent boy, She is going to die. One of you has to, you know that. Do you think there is anyway to thwart the system?" the demon laughed.

"There is. There has to be. We can do it." Soul gasped, clutching at his chest, his nails making jagged crescent shapes against his skin.

The demon laughed louder, "You say that, while you talk with the monster in your head, while she is fighting for her life."

Soul closed his eyes and willed himself to wake up.

* * *

><p>Soul woke up to Maka leaning over him, shaking his shoulder. He could see their opponent standing off to the side in the corner, a smirk on her face as she waved her fan back and forth.<p>

Soul groaned, rubbing his head. He could feel the blood caked into his hair. That would be a pain to wash out, assuming they survived.

"Are you alright?" Maka asked, her voice tight as she held him close.

Soul nodded, not trusting his voice just yet. He reached out his hand and Maka took it, pulling him up. As he stood unsteadily in his feet, he looked over to the woman with the fan. Her dark hair looked choppy, like she had a very close call with a scythe and her clothing was ripped. She also had an assortment of cuts all over her body.

Maka stood beside him while he regained his balance before picking up her scythe once more.

She gave no warning when she charged. Her scythe gripped tightly in her hands, she swung it in a bloody arch. Her face was close to Arachne's when the cannon went off. Arachne's limp body fell to the ground, her blood pouring out and pooling at Maka's feet.

Soul stared at her as she looked down, her hands covered in red and her eyes wide.

"What did I do?" Maka asked, shocked.

"Let's go," Soul said, avoiding her question, "before that dude comes to." He guided her out of the room, his hand on the small if her back.

Giriko woke up to a loud noise and stretched out his arms, high over his head. He had had a really good sleep last night, probably the best he had in a long time. He stood up slowly, marvelling at how refreshed and calm he felt. He hadn't felt calm since long, long before he volunteered as Tribute. District one was a busy place, and this was the most relaxation he had in ages. God, it had felt like 800 years.

He walked out of his room, the floor was chilly against his bare feet, but he paid it no mind. When he walked down the hall that lead to the entrance way, he stopped in his tracks. The floor was covered in dark blood, Arachne, his partner in crime was cut in half.

Was the noise that woke him up the cannon? He stared at her lifeless, broken body. How dare they.

Giriko was angry. He couldn't stand the thought if Arachne being dead, she was his ally, damn it. She was supposed to live, she was powerful, she was his queen in this stupid game.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a shuddering gasp to his left. Mosquito was laying there, just outside of the blood puddle. The short man pulled himself up so that he was sitting against the wall.

Griko was furious. His blood boiled and his head pounded. He wanted to kill this guy.

"What the fuck happened here?" Giriko growled angrily.

Mosquito's eyes shot up to look at his face, "two tributes were here, a blonde girl and an albino boy. I fought them but they knocked me out. I assume Lady Arachne tried to fight them after," he said, his voice calm as could be.

"How is lady Arachne?" Mosquito asked, concerned.

"She's dead," Giriko replied, sinking his serrated knife into Mosquito's chest, angling it under his ribs.

"N-no," he gasped before his breathing stopped and the cannon sounded.

"Yes," Giriko replied grimly. Pulling out his knife and walking away.

He would kill them.

* * *

><p>Maka was a shaky mess by the time they reached their apartment. She had thrown up four times.<p>

She couldn't help it. Her hands were bloody. Soul had dragged her fifteen blocks, running fast, but after that he had calmed down considerably. She was still horribly shaken and made him stop quite a bit. Her hands were stained red. She wanted the blood to go away.

As the sun disappeared behind the walls of the city, Maka and Soul reached a fountain. She rushed forward and dipped her hands in the water, scrubbing viciously. The water around her was now tinged red and when she pulled out her hands, she saw they were still bloody. She started to shake again, glancing up at the moon.

She felt arms settle around her comfortably. Soul held her close and whispered comforts in her ear, his voice soft.

She could see what he meant know, the moon did look like it was laughing.

* * *

><p>That night two faces flashed in the sky.<p>

* * *

><p>"How many of them are still alive now, Gopher," the voice asked, cloaked in a layer of shadow.<p>

"Eleven," Gopher replied, pleased that he remembered the number.

"And how many did you kill?" He asked harshly.

Gopher cast his eyes down, "None, yet," he replied softly- like he was ashamed.

The man smirked. "I want you to change that, go kill those two that you saw go to Arachne's place yesterday. They seem like they could be a threat."

Gopher immediately brightened. "Of course Noah! I won't fail you!" he exclaimed joyfully. He grabbed his weapons and rushed out the door before taking to the roof tops, jumping along the fire escapes and balconies from building to building.

He would make Noah proud to be his ally.

* * *

><p>Maka felt sick to her stomach. She had killed someone. She had killed someone.<p>

Her head pounded and spun. She was going to be sick, again. She knew, this wasn't what the Capitol wanted to see. She needed to fix her mask and carry on.

But she couldn't.

Soul was being very supportive though. He stayed by her side constantly, he calmed her down after her sleepless night, filled to the brim with night terrors and bad dreams. She wanted to show him that she was strong, but she wasn't.

She wanted to promise herself that she would be ok, that she could get over this. The hurt and fear she saw in That woman's eyes, the moment before her eyes lost their light.

She would not make promises she couldn't keep.

Maka sighed and buried herself closer to Soul's chest. He had moved into her room after she had woken up with a nightmare for the third time.

He was warm and comforting, and it just felt so natural.

She didn't want to think anymore.


	5. God Went North

After Soul had woken up and made them breakfast (it was his turn) they prepared to go outside once more. They were going insane trapped inside the apartment, and Maka needed to get out, no matter what kind of horror was out there.

She almost promised herself that she would get past this.

She would not make promises she couldn't keep.

The walk was quiet and slow, neither person in a particular rush to go anywhere, their intertwined hands swinging idly between them as they walked.

Maka had her scythe in her other hand though, and Soul had his hand around the handle of his knife.

They were prepared.

They had first walked up a fire escape to the top of a roof to avoid the streets below, the memory of the snake not yet forgotten. They had been walking for a few minutes before Maka stiffened and turned to look behind them sharply. There was a boy heading towards them, his hair was black and long- longer than Maka's- and it trailed behind him.

Maka could practically feel the hatred radiating out of him, from his soul.

Maka pulled Soul backwards, away from the boy, who had pulled back the string of his bow, shooting an arrow at them.

Maka held up her scythe, the arrow hitting it and bouncing off with a metallic Ping!

The boy seemed to snarl, before pointing at Maka, ignoring Soul and yelling, " I'm Gopher and I'm gonna kill you!"

With that, he charged forward at them, shooting two more arrows while he went.

Maka dodged them, pulling Soul around behind her, swinging him out of the way of the attack.

She attacked next, charging forward and swinging her scythe in a deadly arch. Gopher dodged effortlessly and laughed at her. "You are the one Noah wants me to kill because he thinks you're a threat? Ha! You're weak!" He exclaimed.

Soul could see Maka tightening her grip on her scythe as he raised his knife. Soul adjusted his weight suddenly, getting ready to charge forward.

"Wait," Maka stated, her hand held out, blocking his path. "Let me do it. He clearly has a problem with me."

Soul was unwilling to do so, but as he saw the wide, deadly swinging arches of Maka's scythe, he thought better of it.

Soul sat back a bit on his heels, still ready to jump into the fight at a moments notice, should the occasion call for it. Maka seemed to be doing ok, blocking all of Gopher's attacks, her own attacks strong. Soul was worried about how long she could hold up for though, and, if at any point she showed any sign of slowing down, he would cut in somehow and hopefully they would escape.

"You bitch!" Their opponent screamed, "Let me kill you!"

"No way!" Maka yelled back, obviously annoyed at this brat. She charged forward again and again. "What did I ever do to you?"

"You know what you did, you bitch! You caught Noah's eye and now he likes you and not me!" Gopher hissed as menacingly as he could, his face split in the most ridiculous expression either of them had ever seen.

"Who the hell is Noah?" Maka yelled back at him, swinging again and again.

"The man I love! Now, hold still and let me kill you!" he screeched.

Maka didn't comply, swinging her scythe towards him once more, narrowly missing his head when he ducked down on to the fire escape below them.

"You get to live for now, pig!" He yelled loudly, "but I'll get you next time!"

With that he scampered down the staircase and into the maze of alleyways.

Maka turned to Soul, confusion covering her face, "What the hell was that about?"

Soul didn't have a clue.

* * *

><p>Free looked both ways down the street before turning to the left. Eruka was still right behind him, her face pale and her cheeks still stained black. She was followed by a mousy girl named Mizune- or something. Free was still having trouble remembering things.<p>

He wasn't sure why he was leading the way, perhaps he forgot that to.

* * *

><p>"That was really weird," Maka stated, instinctively smoothing her hands against her pants. Her palms were sweaty in her gloves. Still deeply confused, Maka turned to Soul and asked, "Who is Noah?"<p>

Soul shook his head, "I have no idea."

* * *

><p>They didn't go home straight after, Maka saw a building in the distance, her eyes picking up on the small text of the sign from very far away.<p>

It was a library. Maka had always wanted to go to a more elaborate one, the only one they had back home if District Eleven was practically unused by anyone but her. The library at home had only historical texts and workbooks about farming and the Capitol's history. It was very boring.

But this one, such a large library must have many different types of books.

She turned to Soul with wide eyes and her hands clasped in front of her, " Soul can we go to the library, pretty please?" She begged.

"What?" Soul asked, "where do you see a library?"

Maka grinned and pointed- he hadn't said no yet, that was a start.

Soul looked in the direction her finger was pointing, his eyes squinting shut under the strain if trying to see so far. "I don't see it," he said.

"It's like, right there!" Maka squealed, "please Soul?"

He sighed in return, "Fine Maka, we'll go to your damn library."

Maka cheered and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the space between the building they were standing on and the next.

She jumped, clearing the gap by a foot before turning to Soul and laughing, gesturing for him to follow.

Soul thanked God or Death or whoever was in charge of creating this twisted place, that the streets were narrow.

* * *

><p>They traveled all the way to Eibon's Public Library by the rooftops, so they didn't lose track of the building in the maze of streets below.<p>

Halfway to their destination, they heard three more cannons. One after the other. They were on guard, but that passed quickly. Maka's enthusiasm was contagious.

When they arrived at the last building before the library, Soul turned towards Maka, her face was flushed from exhilaration but she was smiling brightly at him, she practically glowed. For not the first time, Soul had to stop himself from reaching over and kissing her.

Thinking back, he didn't know what was stopping him.

* * *

><p>They walked straight past the romance novels, Maka only pausing for a moment before Soul dragged her away. They almost didn't stop at the cafe, but they pauseded to look briefly before Soul pulled them along once more.<p>

Maka had seen a section she wanted to visit and, as she pulled Soul with her towards it, he stopped her.

"I want to go over there, I saw some music," he said.

Maka looked thoughtful for a moment, her eyes clouding over as she thought before snapping to focus once more. "Ok," she said, "but be careful, we don't know if anyone else is here."

Soul nodded before letting go of her hand and walking away.

The library was amazing; after Soul left to go look at music, Maka had found all sorts of books covering the metal shelves. She flipped through one and then another and another.

She could spend all day here.

She heard footsteps behind her and she turned around, a huge smile on her face, prepared to see Soul but instead coming face to face with a skinny red haired girl.

Her hair was curled in messy ringlets and her eyes were wide and malicious.

"Oh, it's you," she said, "the girl who is allies with Soul."

"What?" Maka said, stunned to have run into yet another person. "Who are you?" She asked.

"That's not important," she replied dismissively, "what is important is what a lame ally you are for Soul. Honestly, why does he even stay with you? You are actually the lamest and no one can stand you. You think you can fight but you can't even spin a scythe properly. You're a failure."

"That's not true," Maka hissed, "I can so!"

"Please," the girl scoffed, "it's your fault that he was hurt."

"No," Maka gasped, "I'm not useless, and that was Soul's choice, no matter how wrongly he chose."

"Prove it," the girl said, waving her hand at Maka and the scythe leaning next to her on the shelf. Maka gritted her teeth and grabbed it. She stepped out if the narrow rows of shelving into an open space and started swinging her scythe around expertly, years of messing around with Blackstar paying off.

Until she dropped it.

"You see? The girl asked, "you could do it for what? Twenty seconds? You are a failure."

"Damn it, shut up!" Maka yelled, spinning her scythe again and again, picking it up when it fell. All the while, the girl was making snide comments and grinning madly, showing her teeth.

"Is Soul only a weapon to you, huh? Can you only use him for violence? As your shield? Are you his pathetic master?"

Maka dropped her scythe one finale time and left it where it fell, collapsing to sit next to it, defeated.

"You see? I was right all along, you failure," the girl said.

"N-no," Maka sniffed, her tears dripping out of her eyes onto the tile floor.

"Yes," the girl said sadistically, "you are a failure."

Suddenly Maka could hear yelling, Soul was calling out for her, calling her name.

The red headed girl looked around before turning to Maka, "I should go now, I don't want to have to chat with him too."

With that, she disappeared in between the stacks of books and was gone.

"Maka!" Soul yelled, rushing towards her, "What's wrong?" He asked, panicked, one hand resting on each of her shoulders.

Maka sat up straight and looked into his eyes, "Nothing's wrong, what happened to you?" She asked, hoping, praying that he wouldn't push the issue.

"Nothing," he said, His eyes steeled. He understood.

The masquerade had already begun.

* * *

><p>He had helped her to her feet before, then they had walked further into the library, passing study rooms and shelves.<p>

They walked until they reached the end of the first floor and Soul helped her to the second; she didn't need his help, not really. She probably should've refused it, but it felt so nice to have him next to her.

While they were climbing the stairs, a cannon echoed around the arena.

The second floor was filled with couches and chairs.

There were all sorts, beanbags, rolling chairs, stools. Maka was grateful. For some reason, she just wanted to sit down and sleep for a week.

"Soul, we need to talk," she said softly, letting go of his hand to take a seat on one of the wooden chairs. "I don't think we should be partners anymore."

* * *

><p>Soul didn't know where this was coming from, he didn't want to stop being partners, he loved her.<p>

He couldn't tell her that though.

"Did you see something before? Is that what this is about?" He asked, thinking back to when he separated from her and went to the music section, only to find an entire area filled with his brother's compositions. Wes the genius.

Soul hoped this wasn't just for ratings, He also hoped that this wasn't because of something he did.

"It not about you, everything's my fault," she said, her eyes downcast.

"Maka, I'm not leaving you, we're partners, we are in this mess together and we'll get out of it together," Soul said seriously.

"Well, isn't this touching," a dark voice snickered from the corner, "you guys are just so fucking stupid, killing Arachne and then thinking I'll just let you walk free? Nope, you're gonna die. I'm gonna kill you," he leered.

Soul stepped protectively in front of Maka, blocking her from the crazed man before him. "You're not in any shape to fight right now, let me handle this," Soul said, drawing his blade in a flash and holding it out in front of him.

Giriko laughed and held out his own weapon, "do you think your puny knife will do anything against my chainsaw?" he asked.

Soul merely growled at him before pulling back his knife and charging forward.

There was the clanging of metal on metal, more than a few stifled gasps of pain and plenty of loud cursing. Yet, Maka stayed at the side watching yet again as Soul took the role of her weapon and she stayed at the sidelines, like the lazy failure she was.

That wouldn't do. If he was so willing to die for her she should at least help him fight.

Maka yelled Soul's name. Her scythe was held firmly in her grip as she swung, narrowly missing the top of Soul's head when he ducked just in time, the blade of her scythe going over him and crashing into Giriko's arm.

Blood spouted from the wound and his grin just got bigger, Maka staring at him horrified as he laughed darkly. Something was wrong, she realized, it was like Chrona all over again.

He had gone mad in the games.

Maka swung again, distracting him from his crazed laughter while Soul jumped behind him and stabbed him In between the shoulder blades.

He screamed and collapsed to his knees, "No, No I can't die like this, No!"

And he was back on his feet again. It should have been impossible, but there he was, shaking and covered in blood.

Soul slipped into position next to her and she noticed he seemed to be humming some sort if lullaby.

"Why don't you rest? There are plenty of comfortable chairs and couches around."

"No, I can't die here," Giriko snarled out, his voice sounding like an old motor as he charged one finale time.

Maka swung her scythe at the same time Soul stabbed him, Maka slicing him across the waist and Soul's blade sinking into his chest.

They were a second too late, though. Giriko's attack had landed. Blood poured out of Maka's stomachs and fell on to the tiled ground, staining the remaining white to red.

Bang.

The cannon echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and amplifying itself.

Maka sunk to the ground, her hand on her stomach and Soul was at her side in an instant, shaking her and asking if she was alright.

"Maka, Maka- can you hear me? MAKA ANSWER ME!" Soul yelled, his ally cradled in his lap as her blood soaking into his clothes.

Shit, Soul thought, this wasn't good. He slowly peeled up Maka's shirt, leaving it so that it still covered her breasts and looked at the wound.

It was awful. The skin looked as though it had been shredded into little bits and torn away. It looked horribly painful and was bleeding heavily.

Soul didn't know what to do.

He did know that he had to save her.

* * *

><p>"Oh no, Daddy!" Is that girl gonna die?" A little child asked her father, tears in her bright eyes.<p>

"She might, Angela," her father replied.

"No!" The little girl screamed, "she's my favourite! I don't want her to die yet! Daddy save her," she commanded.

"I can try to-"

The girl interupted him, screaming and hitting his leg, "NO SAVE HER."

Her father reached for his wallet and walked towards Kid and Spirit.

"What can I do for you?" Kid asked him.

"I would like to sponsor Maka Albarn," he replied.

Kid gave him a bright smile, revealing his perfectly symmetrical teeth. "That's wonderful! How much would you like to offer?"

Spirit looked up at the man, his hand was in his wallet and it looked as though he was about to pull out a fifty dollar bill.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked Spirit instead of answering Kid.

"My daughter is Maka Albarn," he said hopelessly.

"Here," he said and handed them a hundred. "I hope she makes it."

With that he was gone. Spirit dissolved into tears. He could save her with this money and the money he had received from Blackstar. He could do it.

He had to.

* * *

><p>Soul was running around like a madman, stripping the fabric from cushions to make bandages when he heard the sound of something hitting the large bay window before the window phased out of existence and promptly reappeared. Soul stared in awe the silvery parachute floated through the window and landed, coming to rest next to Maka's bloody form.<p>

He grabbed it immediately, carrying it away from her and opening it, just in case it wasn't from a sponsor.

But it was, it held bandages and tape and other medical supplies, like disinfectant. It also held a note.

"She saved you, now please save her. -S" Soul read aloud before grasping at the bandages and setting to the task of disinfecting her stomach.


	6. House on a Hill

It was a long process and it was probably quite painful; Soul knew that his hands were shaking like crazy as he sewed her back together, and wrapped her tightly in bandages.

There was no way he could get her home. He wasn't even sure how she had managed to carry him home after the fight with Chrona. He would have to make do with here. Soul left her on the floor, his ears straining for any sound of a cannon.

He needed to find somewhere less open for them to hide.

He found a study room off to the side, it held a few chairs and a couch. Soul immediately decided that this was the place. It was in a corner and had only one door. It would be easy to guard and had enough room from both Maka and himself.

He walked out of the room again. He grabbed a sofa on wheels as he passed it, so that he wouldn't jostle Maka's wounds all that much by carrying her.

He reached her side in no time, gently lifting her, as carefully as possible so that nothing would be reopened. Once he had successfully placed her on the couch he slowly wheeled her over to the room.

He didn't bring her inside just yet, instead, he grabbed the huge, flat bean bag chair that he had left outside and pulled it into the empty space he had made by moving the couch and chairs out if the way. He then pulled the blankets that he had found over the windows, saving the softest one for her.

Now, he lifted her gently onto a flat part of the beanbag, thankful that it was just her front that was hurt and not her back as well.

He placed the softest pillow he could find under her head and covered her from the hips down with the blanket.

He then rearranged the wheeled couch so it was blocking the door from the outside and closed the door, doing the same with the couch inside, he sat down.

* * *

><p>That night, there was two faces in the sky.<p>

* * *

><p>"So," Noah's voice echoed around the street way, "why did only two people die today?" He asked.<p>

"I-I don't know," Gopher answered.

"Don't you?" He asked harshly, "did I not give you the task of killing the two who killed Arachne? And the two who died certainly weren't them. "

"Well, yes," Gopher started, raising his hands in the air submissively, "but I wasn't strong enough this time, I guarantee that it won't happen again."

"That's right, it won't," Noah said, guest urging Gopher closer. "Do you know why that is?"

Gopher nodded his head, "because I will do better next time."

"No," Noah said, "there is no next time. You failed me, I have no more use for you."

"Noah?" Gopher asked, confused.

Noah pulled Gopher into a hug, which the younger boy eagerly returned. He patted him on the back once before the patting of his hand was replaced with a sharp sting of a knife, expertly avoiding Gopher's ribs and burying it in his heart. Noah twisted it sharply, before pulling away, letting Gopher fall to the ground.

Bang.

Noah smiled.

* * *

><p>His head was held high as he walked through the streets, his footsteps echoing off the cobblestone and ringing around him. The sound of three cannons went off.<p>

The sound of his footsteps was soon joined by those of another, coming towards him head on. Noah walked even faster.

The man rounded the corner and charged at him but Noah dodged to the side, and drew his sword.

He pointed it at the man across from him threateningly. "Who are you?" He asked.

"I am Justin, a servant of the lord," he replied before charging, the large cross hanging around his neck banging against his chest. In his hand he held a large blade, almost like the ones they used for executions. He swung it at Noah, who dodged expertly.

"Don't you want to know my name?" He asked cockily.

Justin blinked owlishly at him, "No, I don't care about the pigs I kill, just like those last three."

Noah didn't really like that answer. At all. The last three canons had been much to close together for Justin to be anything less than a skilled fighter.

His lips pulled back into a snarl and he swung his sword at the other boys head.

Justin blocked it and laughed, his eyes and smile wide, twisted.

He swung his blade towards Noah but this, time there was no escape. He was cut clean through the middle.

Bang.

The canon rang out before he even hit the floor.

Justin laughed again and threw his hands out, "How was that, God? Was that good?"

* * *

><p>"We need to get rid of that Justin kid," Medusa said, eying her partner in crime who had a cigarette hanging out if his mouth, "he is completely insane, we can't allow him to win."<p>

Stein looked up from the screen he had been watching on, "I agree, he needs to be dealt with. What should we do?"

"I have a plan," Medusa said calmly, her voice leveled and maybe a bit sadistic. It was hard to tell with her.

"Then do it," Stein replied flatly, he didn't care.

"Ok," Medusa said, pulling up the screen with Justin, who was entering a church in it.

"God, did I help you? Are you proud of me?" Justin's voice echoed from the speaker.

Medusa cackled, her voice venomous as she said, "we are the gods here."

With that, she made a quick movement on the keyboard in front of her and ripped the heavy iron cross off the wall.

"Ready the canon," Stein said.

* * *

><p>Chrona stumbled on the uneven ground, knees already scratched and bruised from falling.<p>

"Hey, Ragnarok, who's ahead of us?" Chrona asked.

"Why don't you find out?" Answered Ragnarok.

Medusa was watching with a poisonous grin on her face, that child had been her first experiment, it was almost as though Chrona was her child.

It looked as though she was going to lose her child now. It was such a shame, she had wanted to experiment on Chrona a bit longer.

Asura was coming to where Chrona was, Medusa monitored his presence from the tracker in his arm on the map.

Chrona stumbled along some more, completely unaware and dragging the large, black broadsword.

Asura was one street over now, and Medusa found, for the first time in the games, that she couldn't predict what would happen. She smiled even wider and turned to Stein. This was going to be good.

Chrona put up a good fight, Medusa noticed. The black sword flashing as they blocked and dodged.

The alter personality that Medusa suspected that Chrona had created for allowing themself escape from the games was taking over now. She could tell by the harsher swings of Chrona's sword and steadier footsteps.

The other personality, that Chrona called Ragnarok was vicious, swinging at Asura and had it not been for the many layers of Kevlar and other fabric he had wrapped himself in, he would be dead.

Medusa watched with great interest as the duo battled.

Chrona hit Asura, Asura hit Chrona.

Both wounds were shallow, both tributes fell further into madness.

Both blocked the others attack, Chrona landed another hit.

The kishin stumbled.

Chrona laughed and held the sword tighter.

It was getting quite boring, both tributes were too evenly matched.

Medusa grinned, "Stein," she called out, "raise the madness levels by fifty percent."

Her partner just shrugged as he raised the level on the holographic interface in front of him.

This would only affect the tributes close to the School, but that was enough for now, they could always bribe the other two over there anyway.

The fight was getting wilder, Medusa noticed, her interest slightly peaked as she watched.

She was excited, she realized. This arena. These games. These were her crowning achievements. The madness, the cityscape, it was all too perfect.

This was her legacy.

Chrona was strong, and in the face of the madness had always prevailed. Had always come out on top. But it looked as though this time would be different, the Kishin had backed the armed tribute against the wall of the school and was, almost as though it was happening in slow motion, slipped the knife across Chrona's neck, slitting the tributes throat.

With a strangled cry, the tribute fell to the ground and, for a moment, this person, this being, this child was exactly that to Medusa. A child.

She had caused the death of children, with families.

And yet, she didn't care.

* * *

><p>Soul lay next to Maka, he had his arm around her, resting across her chest as she slept. He wouldn't sleep that night, he was on the look out, he had already heard three cannons tonight.<p>

That meant there were only three people left.

He would protect her, he would let her win.

But, what if they could both win?

They could back the Games Keepers into a corner, keep her safe, let her live and, still selfishly keep himself alive.

He wanted to stay with her.

Maka lay still in his arms, her breathing rhythmic and her arms at her side. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead before pulling away.

He settled his body around her's and succumbed to sleep.

He woke up in the morning, his arms still around her, and her hands pressed against his chest. He blearily opened his eyes to be met with brilliant green.

"Good morning, Soul," she said softly, a smile on her face.

"Good morning, Maka," he returned. "How did you sleep, do you feel ok?"

"I'm fine, " Maka replied, poking her stomach, "that medicine-paste stuff works great!

Soul smiled down at her softly. He was so glad she was ok.

"Listen, Maka," he started, stumbling over what he wanted to say next and he wasn't sure how much time he would have to say everything. "Three cannons went off while you were asleep, we are two of the three people left."

Maka hummed in recognition, "so this is almost the end, then, huh?" She asked her eyes wide.

"Yeah."

"What should we do?" She asked.

"I don't know," he replied, his voice soft as he looked in to her eyes, "I really don't know."

In the end, they decided to spend some time together, Maka snuggled against Soul's chest and her arms around him, as his were around her.

His arms settled around her waist and hers around his chest. She rested her head against his collar bones.

They didn't say much at first, but slowly, they started to talk. Maka told him about her childhood in the farming district and he told her about his in the technology district. He told her how he learned piano, she told him how she learned to read.

She told him about the divorce. He told her about the pressure to be as good as his brother.

They talked for what seemed like hours, before Maka asked him for a favour.

"Could you please help me? I want a haircut."

Soul inspected her short hair that hung choppily around her ears from where she had cut it off in the battle with Giriko before Soul had even met her.

It was uneven and choppy, but he thought he could fix it a bit, to make it more even.

"Sure," he replied.

"Thank you, Soul, I want to look a bit nice when I die, you know?" She asked, turning to him.

Without thinking, Soul pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, before leaning down and looking into her eyes, a light blush tinting both their faces pink. "You won't die, I promise," he whispered.

He took his knife in his hand and tried, as gently as he could to even out her hair into a short bob. She hissed every now and then, but soon her hair was neat again.


	7. The Parting Glass

Soul smoothed her hair and held his hand up for her to take. They stood together and walked towards the door, ripping open a granola bar each as they strode purposefully towards the doorway. Maka gripped her scythe in one hand and Soul's hand in the other. He did the same, his left clutching his knife.

Maka could hear the blood roaring in her ears. He steps were even and loud, echoing on the cobblestones of the streets and alleys of the City of Death.

Maka smiled cruelly. This was the end.

The winner would be decided by the end of the night.

She could practically feel Soul's anticipation radiating off him in waves. His grip was firm on her gloved hand. Her ankle still hurt, and so did her side, but she would live. And so would Soul, they would find a way.

They were nearing the school, the walk seeming shorter than it had ever before and deathly silent.

All too soon the stairway stretched before them. Soul took the first step, tightening his grip on her hand. She followed close beside him.

Step by step, they climbed the stairs. Their footsteps pounded like their hearts but they carried on.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they stopped.

Sitting in front of the doors was a man, his skin gaunt and pale. He wore layers after layers of clothing, scarves draping themselves around his neck.

"Hello, children," the man spat disdainfully. "I'm Asura, and I'm the Victor."

"I'm-" Maka started before he cut her off.

"Oh, I don't care who you are little girl, and in another few minutes it's not going to matter who you are. You'll lose either way," he stated, like this was a fact.

Soul tightened his grip on her hand and practically growled at the man.

Maka squeezed Soul's hand tightly once more, before letting go and gripping her scythe.

"No," she replied. "You'll be the one dying."

With that, she charged, racing forward and swinging her scythe in a deadly arch towards his neck.

But Asura was too quick, and he ducked under her scythe and punched her, sending her flying into the wall behind her.

"Maka!" Soul yelled, panicked. He had heard the crunch that had emanated from where Maka had hit the wall, and it hadn't sounded good.

Maka stood up shakily, blinking the spots from her vision and coughing. She looked up just in time to see Soul rhythmically kicking and swiping his knife at Asura. Soul attacked with precision as he forced Asura back towards Maka. Soul caught her eye and she understood. While he kept up his assault on Asura from the front she would move from the back.

She positioned her scythe, settling into her battle stance, her legs braced and her weapon ready.

Sudden, he was close enough and Maka swung. Her blade cut through the air, digging into the scarves wrapped around his neck and it stopped. Maka froze for a moment before applying more force into her attack. The blade didn't budge.

Asura laughed and kicked Soul, sending him flying across the courtyard before he rolled to a stop at the beginning of the stairs. He coughed, and black blood spilled from his mouth.

His body was shaking; his eyes were wide.

Then Asura turned to Maka, he smiled wickedly at her, "game over, little girl," he said.

He brought his hand back and faster than Maka could dodge, he plunged his hand through her still healing wound from Giriko, tearing her stitches and pushing around her insides.

Maka gagged, spitting out blood. Red blood, tinged black.

She coughed and coughed, her stomach aching as Asura twisted his hand and pulled it out of her.

"NO," she heard Soul yell, "MAKA."

And then she fell. She could feel her blood draining away and she struggled to stand up, her voice a strangely pitched gurgle.

Soul was at her side in an instant,his arms around her, trying to put pressure on her wound, to stop the bleeding.

She could dimly hear his pleading for her to please, please live.

She reached up, her bloody hand rested against his face for a moment before it fell.

He shook her then, sudden, tooth jarring shakes. Couldn't he let her rest? She was so tired.

And suddenly his body was over hers, he pulled her into his arms, uncomfortably folding her to him as he covered her.

She could hear the flames, smell the burning flesh.

It was horrible.

Then Soul collapsed, his arms still protectively around her. His breathing was slow and laboured.

Her world snapped into focus. Why had he done that?

If he would have let her die, then he could attack and win. He would be free.

She struggled to untangle herself from his arms and turned to him, his back was ruined. It bled darkly on to the ground, staining the stone. She didn't know how to fix this.

"You see, little girl?" Asura said. "I told you I would be the last one standing, neither of you are going to last all that much longer. I'm going to enjoy watching you die."

"Shut up," Maka growled, "shut up, shut up, shut up. You won't win."

He just laughed, tilting his head back and throwing his arms out. "Foolish girl, I've already won!"

Maka grabbed for her scythe and struggled to stand, shape pain stabbing through her abdomen. Her hands were covered with blood, both hers and Soul's. Her stomach ached and felt far too airy. Her ankle throbbed and her eyesight wavered. Suddenly, a hand gripped her foot through her scuffed boot. Maka stiffened before she realized it was Soul. He looked up at her, his eyes pleading.

"Help me up," he said.

Maka nodded.

Together they stood on trembling feet as they struggled to grip their weapons.

If they were going to go down, they were going to go down fighting.

They leaned on each other heavily, bracing themselves, and then they charged, Maka ducking the left and Soul going to the right.

They held hands until the last possible second, before they let the others fingers slip away. Maka grinned and swung at Asura's waist as Soul swung his knife, the blade glinting in the sunlight.

She got there first, and Asura, not knowing which way to turn froze, allowed her to slice him in half at the waist.

Soul, who was already in motion, brought his knife down and plunged it into his chest, like they did in the battle with Giriko.

The Kishin fell.

Boom.

Maka stared. The stairway was drenched in blood, blood from the two if them and blood from Asura's split body.

Maka stepped back, away from the spreading pool of Asura's blood to turn to Soul.

He had crossed her pool of blood and was now standing beside her.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, the blood from her wound seeped through his sleeves.

His face was right next to her own, just like it had been that night. The night Kilik had died.

Maka sighed and her head spun- though if it was from how close he was or from blood loss she couldn't tell.

Maka gently brought her arms up and put them on either side of his face, like she had done earlier.

He looked down at her and stared into her eyes.

He kissed her. It was inexperienced and kinda sloppy, but it was Soul. She felt like she had known him forever.

She kissed him back.

Maka would have been ok with kissing him indefinitely but she was feeling kinda dizzy from the lack of blood and air.

When she pulled away, her legs felt like jelly.

Soul lowered them to sit next to each other, leaning against the balcony. She smiled brightly at him, they had done it, they were alive, they had won.

He gave her one more quick kiss before the a female voice echoed through the the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you our finale two tributes of the 74th hunger games," the voice rang out.

Maka's smile dropped. She had forgotten about that. They expected her to kill Soul.

Maka stood up, picking up her scythe from where it had fallen, her eyes filled with tears as she looked down at him.

She swung her scythe, but stopped when it neared flesh. Soul had his own knife out and pressed against his throat.

Maka could feel the edge of her scythe pressed against her own skin, some blood dripping down her neck warmly.

She turned to Soul.

He looked afraid.

"Hey," he said " I guess if we die, we die together. I love you."

Maka stifled a shuddering gasp, "I love you too."

Maka smiled. She was almost glad it had come to this. She couldn't have killed him if the Gamekeepers demanded it, and by the looks of it, he wouldn't have been able to kill her either.

They looked into each other's eyes, Maka's breath caught in her throat.

"Five," Maka said.

"Four", Soul replied.

"Three," they said together.

"Two."

"Stop!"a voice rang out, the female voice from before called out, "Attention, ladies and gentlemen, your victors this year, Maka Albarn and Soul Evans!"

Maka's eyes widened in shock, her legs buckled under her and she fell to her knees beside him. He pulled her into his arms and they sat there together, her arms around his neck, cautious of his wounds. The sound of a hovercraft was heard and the world went black.

* * *

><p>When Maka woke up, her head was spinning and her vision was blurred.<p>

The smell of anaesthetic made her headache even worse.

"Are you sure she is going to be ok?" Spirit asked. He was worried, Maka could tell.

"She will be fine, Spirit," a male voice said, and Maka would bet, if she could see him, he would be rolling his eyes.

"She's not infected by that black blood stuff, right?" Her papa asked.

"No, she seems to have created antibodies to combat it and her wounds should heal, as should Soul's," the voice said.

Maka heard her papa's sigh of relief.

"However," the man said, and Maka stiffened. "The two of them might experience withdrawal symptoms after being exposed to the tracker jacker venom for so long.

So that's what that was.

Spirit took a deep breath like he was going to say something. But the man cut him off, "enough with the questions, your daughter is awake, don't you want to say hello?"

And just like that, she could hear her fathers footsteps, and then her vision was filled with red.

"Maka!" Her father cried out happily.

* * *

><p>The visit with her stylists after the games was not at all pleasant.<p>

It started off nice enough, the girls exclaiming how happy they were to see her. How happy they were that she was still alive. How much they had missed her.

They told her that she and Soul were an adorable couple and that they were working with Soul's stylist to make them matching outfits.

Then the conversation turned to the arena.

They talked about Tsugumi's death and how sad they had been, how grossed out they had been with Giriko.

They spoke of Soul's injury, Arachne's death, the battle with Asura and everything in between. They talked mostly to each other, not noticing Maka, sitting naked on the treatment chair, her skin pale and green tinged and healed as she shook violently.

She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not cry.

She was crying.

The girls immediately noticed and flew into panic mode, asking Maka what was wrong, how they could help, did she want to talk about it?

There were too many questions for Maka to keep track of.

"I just want to go home," she sobbed.

Patti left the room and Liz helped her into a loose fitting night gown.

After that, she wrapped her arm around Maka, a manicured hand resting on her shoulder.

"It will be ok," Liz said, rubbing Maka's back comfortingly.

But it wasn't ok. It would never be ok.

Patti returned a few minutes later with some cookies and juice. They tasted like ash in her mouth. Maka ate them anyway.

* * *

><p>Patti finished shampooing Maka's hair and scrubbing her skin so that it was free from any lingering dirt. Liz was making the alterations to Maka's dress; she had taken Maka's measurements after the Games and had looked quite shocked. Her shock had disappeared after she had taken a closer look at Maka's body. Her bones protruded from her skin, and her nails had been absolutely ruined.<p>

Now, she had fake nails glued to her ruined ones and her hair was cut stylishly at an angle, sloping to the left in a way that Kid was sure to dislike.

The girls did her makeup, packing it to her face and neck, smoothing any scars away and making her face look more full.

She sat patiently when they told her to close her eyes, glueing the long eyelashes to the corners of her eyes.

Soon, they spun her chair around and helped her up, and towards the room that held her dress.

The dress was beautiful. Maka held her arms out as they pulled the rose red dress around her, pulling the corset like strings tight around her. Maka noticed the dress was padded so that she didn't look too thin.

Maka looked down at the flats that Liz held out for her. Patti lifted Maka's skirt and Liz held the shoe out to her.

"I thought these would be better for your ankle," Liz said sympatheticly.

Maka nodded, taking in her new dress. It was shaped like a rose, the petals curling upward, until they reached her collarbones. The petals had small gems arranged like dewdrops.

Her eyes were heavily lined, the red winged across the sides and her eyelashes looked huge.

"Wait," Liz said, "one more thing." She pulled out a tube of red lipstick from her pocket. Then she applied it to Maka's lips.

"Now, you look perfect, just be careful not to get that stuff all over you boyfriend before you guys go on stage," Liz smirked.

Maka flushed but she doubted that Liz could see it.

Patti fastened the small red flowered choker around her neck and smile. "You look really pretty, Maka," she said.

"Thanks."

* * *

><p>When Maka finally saw Soul again, it was right before show time. They were behind the curtain of the stage of Blair's talk show. When he saw her, he pulled her close and kissed her, heedless of her warnings about the red lipstick.<p>

After they pulled away, Liz came up to the, a cloth with makeup remover in her hand and a knowing smirk on her face.

Soul flushed as Liz attacked his face with her cloth.

"Ok, that looks good enough," she said. "Just keep the PDA to a minimum until the interview is done."

They would have blushed and protested, but a backstage worker interrupted them, telling them that they had ten seconds to get ready.

Maka turned to him, smoothing his black tie she had unintentionally squished when they kissed.

The green circuit board-pinstripe pattern of his suit shimmered in the dim lights of backstage.

"Are you ready?" She asked.

"Yeah," he replied, linking their arms, as they walked together, ushered onstage.


End file.
